


South

by Reigneur



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Jude Law - Fandom
Genre: AO3 1 Million, Angst, Biracial Couple, F/M, Mentions of Racism, Mild Language, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Romance, Small Celebrity Inserts, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:05:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 28,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reigneur/pseuds/Reigneur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>and so they all got up and went down to the crescent city where the jazz is as consistent as the good times</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. december

                Her hand clutched that grey mouse with such a force that in retrospect, if any more pressure had been supplemented, shards of plastic and wiring would have lain without function beneath the palm of her hand. The strength in that action would have been fueled, entirely, by her fury. The sight of the screen initiated a parade of emotions within her that were vast and numerous. But at that particular moment, the woman was fuming.

They were only photographs; five of them actually.

                There was no wrong within the scene captured by the lens. Generally the photographic subject was only a charming couple on a park bench surrounded by the landscape of London. The initial view was intimate and rather sensual considering the fact that it was taken by a member of the paparazzi. The other photographs were obvious preludes something more dubious. Though there were only five pictures in all, the woman felt as though she was there amongst those two human beings engaging in one another's company. The photos left her feeling their infatuation rise through the aperture, contemplating their thoughts with the flash, and disappearing with each shifting angle.

                The acts displayed by the couple would have given no other viewer grief. But the people that comprised the couple in the photograph caused her to runs her vacillating hands through the course of her scalp shifting her dark tresses from her eyes.

It's Benedict with some woman that looks eerily like Olivia Poulet.

                  A breath of realization left her gaping mouth once the truth of it all dawned upon her. He slept with her, undoubtedly. She knew him well enough to recognize when his kisses were driven by lust and desire. She could distinguish the kneading of his palms into the base of her spine even as they were sitting down. She could sense every bit of his yearning for her and the rain couldn’t have been more perfectly choreographed to the falling of her tears. 

                The arctic London air of December chilled the bottoms of her bare feet and the next thought to breach her mind was distance. London became the most claustrophobic of places in her mind. Truthfully, the United Kingdom housed no familiarity for her. The whole percentage of her relationships formed in the area had been made through Benedict and everywhere she could possibly go would be a bitter reminder of him. She saw fairness in leaving. Departure would allow for conclusiveness in their breakup, something Benedict apparently wasn’t accustomed to. 

                Her thoughts visited topic after topic and only the ringing of her mobile remained constant in the home they shared together. Judging from the thirty-seven missed calls and the fifty- three text messages Benedict must have known about the photos. His relentless attack on her device was of no aid to their situation. She stared blankly at her phone willed the gentle rings to cease. And they did for a while, the rings stopped and his face disappeared from the screen of her phone. Then they were replaced with a recurring sequence of faces, most notably Tom’s, James’s, Amanda, and Martin’s… He's told them to call her and plea on his behalf. Benedict's circle was small and it seemed as though the whole of it had rang in hopes of reaching her. She'd even thought of answering it when she saw his mother's name flash across her screen. 

                All of this was of no importance when compared to what was standing on the steps leading into their home. Benedict was on the other side and knowing that he had a key made bitterness within her mount like bile into her mouth. And when she heard the bolt on their front door turning there was slight motivation to contain it. She’d even tried to run upstairs before he got in.

               Wood slid against wood indicating that the door had been opened completely and at the shuffle she betrayed herself and turned to him. The only real announcement of his arrival had to be the change in temperature and the descent of absolute silence. Even the rain had stopped.  Her grip on the rail tightened immensely almost with as much force that had previously been her grip on the computer mouse. Her dark eyes were misted by oncoming tears and her vision blurred leaving only shapes to her discernment. It was Benedict without fault. 

               His tall, lanky figure in the open doorway froze her in place on that stairwell. She closed her eyes, allowing briny tears to fall down the fullness of her cheeks. Promptly, her vision was restored and she could see him, almost right through him. He was so pale and absolutely disgusted with himself.  His eyes became glacier blue under the sheen of water, constant, yet allowing the tears to flow without pause. 

              He turned his body back toward the door to close it. His hands looked ancient against the scratched and dented and chipped brown varnish, it had a brass colored lock and door knob dulled with age and greasy fingerprints. How many times has he pressed her back against that wooden block to kiss and ravish her?  He slid his hands down the brass safety chain that dangled at the side of the door, a pointless gesture in a neighborhood like theirs. At its closing, he spoke into the plank before him… 

"Alexis."

             There was a pain in his voice and a weakness reserved especially for him. Her tears had rawness to them leaving her to grasp the wall and railings as she fell back. Her whole body shook as she fell quite unattractively into a sitting position on the stairwell. So much so that it would have been comical if it weren't pathetic. The sobs were stifled at first as she attempted to hide her grief, then overcome by the wave of his emotions she broke down entirely, all her defenses became fiction. And when Benedict at last turned his face to Alexis, she was a portrait of grief, loss, devastation. 

             In Benedict's many imaginings of that moment on the ride over he couldn't, for the life of him, conjure any sufficient apology. The fragments of one bubbled from his mouth, but he could tell that she wasn't listening. When his words failed, he gathered himself close to her to abruptly lift her into his arms. A rush of breath left her at the movement and she folded into herself as he headed towards their bedroom. 

             When placed at the foot of the bed, she was rooted to that spot indefinitely. Those great tears that graced the warmness of her cheek had disappeared as quickly as they came. There was a hollowness within her but even that couldn’t stop her features from buckling just slightly before she spoke, "I can't believe you," her voice breaking, becoming yet another betrayal of her grief. She repeated herself in a voice just above a whisper, bearing her teeth as she went along. At her words, Benedict kneeled to the space between her legs and with trembling fingers he massaged the back of her jean clad knees. “Please love,” he breathed, letting a tear falling down the angles of his face. “I am a complete bastard, a complete fool.” he continued even as her gaze was cold and uncaring. He stopped babbling for a moment to speak, “I’m sorry.”

            Alexis cut her dark eyes toward him at his words and leaned so far into him that they could have been mistakenly interpreted as being in an embrace. Her lips grazed the shell of his ear when she spoke, “Sorry?” she practically spat. “’Sorry’ is what you say to people when you step on their feet. You…” She stopped, pulling back to bite her lips, “You cheated on me.”

            Benedict’s eyes remained steady, resting on her face, briefly before falling to the wood beneath them. He slept with he and he regretted it as soon as it ended.  In truth, his and Olivia’s relationship was one that was so very “on and off” that not even the public knew that they weren’t together anymore. Alexis, though he never considered it, was indeed a secret from outside eyes. They were able to keep a low profile for so long under the façade that their relationship was purely commercial.

           At that particular moment Benedict had asked her what she needed from him and the only thing she could invoke from the depths of mind was, “Water." And what she got from him was exactly that. So quickly, that she didn’t have time to think about what she was to do next. He’d return to their bedroom to find her sitting in that same stoic position. And at the handing over of the glass, he lamely tried to graze her fingers with his own. But, to his distress, she managed to grab it awkwardly without actually touching him. There was a tension that permeated their room like a foul stench. Everything in her wanted to scream and yell at him, but every time a thought breached her mind it dissolved before it could reach her mouth.

           ‘Console her’ was the mantra in Benedict’s mind and with that he put his lips far too close to her cheek. He was sorely mistaken. She turned her head from him harshly without a word. Alexis’s face was paler than Ben ever recalled it being, as if her very blood was shrinking away from his presence, her lips almost ghostly despite the warmth of the room. Then she turned back to him, features situated like an enemy with brown eyes cold and muscles tense.

           "Tell me what I should do to make this right between us." He started. “Do you want me to get on my knees and beg because I would do that for you?” He lowered his voice an octave she noted. “I would do anything for you love. What do you ask of me?”

            She closed her eyes at him because she was tired. She was tired, confused, and hurt. But most of all, hurt.

She finally acknowledged him with a simplistic voicing of, "Get me my suitcase."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not going to help you _leave_ me."

            Ben broke his gaze, preferring instead to rest his eyes on the clouds in the sky outside of their window. He instantaneously found regret in his words.

           “That’s not your choice to make,” her voice had gotten louder and even fuller of spite. “You’ve already made your decision, Benedict.” Each syllable of his name coming off of her tongue had been so offending to his ears. He collapsed his head into her lap and let a pained wail come from throat almost as if he had been if physical pain. She could not help but to cry alongside him.

           After a while her eyes glanced at the closet which held her case and at that same moment she noticed the roaming of Benedict’s hands up her body. But after kneading into various parts of her body, he abruptly stopped at her neck. "I have to go." She says quietly to herself and he mumbled his protests as his thumbs pressed gently against the base of her collarbone. The sniffling and incoherent babbling had stopped, leaving only a dead silence. His voice, hoarse was the next sound to break that quietness.

"I could break you." He said frightening her in the process with his strength.

"You're so fragile, a mere reed in my grasp."

"Benedict." she said quietly. 

"A reed.” He repeated himself. “I could bend you with my thumbs.”

          She stood hastily at his words allowing those same hands that were at her neck to descend upon her hips. He gripped them just as timidly as he held her collarbone as he rested his head wearily upon her stomach.

He hissed, “Do you love me, Alexis?”

         When he was met with no protest he continued.

“Then the necessities of our relationship are still there.” He growled at himself. “I could never be the same in your eyes, I know that now. But, I would gladly vow to you my respect, my fidelity...”

“No you can’t.”

“My heart is yours.”

“Those photographs were from over week ago…”

“I would have told you…”

           She could only articulate the betrayal with a moan. All the life seemed to go out of Benedict and he could scarcely breathe. His cries were nearing hysteric and the woman couldn’t bear the pain of it all. Benedict all of sudden let her waist go and she fought against nothing to pull away and when she did, Alexis went to her nightstand to hold herself against it for leverage, a nausea overtaking her. The Englishman rose from the coolness of the wooden floor to trudge out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

          Her grey luggage lay neatly near the door of the bedroom. In a half hour she had gathered much of her belongings and she was ready to escape to a place where London and the memories it brought would evaporate into a humid southern air. She briefly thought of her parents before hearing her name called from the other side of the door.

“Alexis,”

        She stood entirely still. She could hear him try to turn to the doorknob, but she locked it behind him. After failing to open the door, he resigned himself and leaned against it; she could hear the creak of the wood as his weight was shifted towards it. In that position he could hear her every move. He could hear her feet approach the door, he could hear her lean against it, and he could hear her breath and he knew she could hear his own. 

“Let me inside please.” He said after a while.

She didn’t bother to move.

 

 

But at first light she was gone.

And that was December, three years ago.


	2. crescent city blues

 

     Almost three years had passed and London became a secluded remembrance in the back of Alexis's mind. Nothing was left for her there, so the move was immediate and moderately unsophisticated, uncomplicated, unproblematic. But emotionally draining. All things considered, migrating back to Louisiana was good for her. It reminded her of how beautiful  it was to have family.

Oh, and Jude.

Sweet, charming, old Jude.

"Wake up pet; we've got to check-in." Jude said, peacefully trying to pry Alexis tenderly away from her subterranean circumstances of sleep.

She and Jude have known about each other for years. After Hurricane Katrina, in 2006 they both served as the chairmen of the Music for Tomorrow Foundation to help rebuild Katrina-devastated New Orleans. The foundation had done very well, and the friendships between the two chairmen had thrived, and now all these years later she and Jude were giving the cause another push. They'd just arrived in New Orleans for a couple of meetings concerning a music festival to raise money for the MFTF and they would be there for a week. This would be the second festival that the chair has planned and this one would be “even bigger and better” than the previous.

Well, that's what Jude said.

He winches his neck to get a good look at the woman the back seat of his inconspicuous Mercedes Benz. Alexis hasn't budged. She still lies in her awkward sleep position. One arm placed limply in between her crossed legs and the other, draped over the car seat which currently holds, the child.

Alexis's and _He who shall not be name’s_ child.

The young child positioned in the car seat seem to be the epitome of resemblance to his father, same curly hair, same sharp cheekbones, same upper lip, hell, the baby even had the deep voice to match. Everything about the child screamed _'Just like Daddy'_ save for the child's eyes, no, those eyes belonged to the mother.

Big, brown, and full of hope.

Well, Jude said that too.

* * *

 

It was the father's child undeniably. No, not Jude's, not Voldemort's, but Ben's. The only thing that seemed to keep the truth hidden was the baby's beautiful golden brown complexion. (Again, thanks to Alexis)

"Come on, my darlings. It's time to check-in to the fancy hotel that Uncle Judie booked for us." Jude said, terribly mimicking the sound of Alexis's voice. He poked the baby's tummy playfully.

Alexis stirred and after a moment opened her eyes. "I do not sound like that." She retorted while unbuckling her seat belt.

Jude had gotten out of the car and walked around to the opposite side to meet the fussing little boy who had awoken with a yawn.

"Hi, little prince." Jude said as he unbuckled the little boy from his car seat. Tickling him as he took him into his arms.

"Hello, Uncle Judie." The little boy said with a sleepy smile as his big, brown eyes darted around to take in his surroundings.

"Are we here?" He asked.

"Yes, darling we're here. Would you like to call Gran to tell her that we've arrived?" Alexis asked the giddy little boy. He nodded his head furiously, curls bouncing around crazily.

"Alright, alright. Calm down little prince. I don't want to drop you." Jude said in between chuckles.

The child reached out for his mother. She grabbed him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Jude found himself staring at the sight being held before him. He wanted to hold her himself and kiss her just the way she kissed Asher except maybe more than just on her face.  After the cherished mother and son moment, Alexis caught Jude's gaze and blushed profusely. Through all of these years of being with him as his best friend, receding hairline and all, he was still able to make her blush.

_The flirting bastard._

The three began to walk towards the automatic doors hand in hand, save for Jude.

* * *

 

"Hello sir and ma'am. Hi little man!" A bubbly blonde with extra white teeth chimed as the trio emerged through the doors of The W hotel. The baby tucked his head into the crook of his mother's shoulder. She patted him on the back. He waved, shyly towards the concierge.

_The little flirt. He gets it from his Uncle Jude._

"Hi, I've reserved two separate rooms under the name Law." Jude said, smiling superfluously wide.

"Yes, 342 and 351, correct?” He nodded, “Your bags will be delivered to your room." She paused to reach under the desk to grab the keys. "Here you are.” She paused to give Jude a look of embarrassment.  “I'm sorry, I'm nosy but I must ask, are you here with music festival or the film crew?"

"Festival." Jude and Alexis said in unison.

"Oh, goody. I plan to go. If I can get a day off work." She dead panned the last part of her sentence.

"That's wonderful, We..." Jude said.

"What film crew is it exactly?" Alexis asked, unintentionally interrupting Jude. She knew the answer to her question already. She dreaded hearing the words fall from another person's lips. _She's going to say it, isn't she?_ Then the blonde confirmed her anxious thoughts.

"12 Years A Slave." Yes. Benedict is there.

She knew about the movie, she read the book. It was wonderful. She couldn't contain her excitement once Jude had shown her the cast list. Until she saw his name, Benedict Cumberbatch, the unsuspecting father of her three-year-old baby boy was filming in New Orleans and happened to be staying in the same hotel as her.

_Bullshit._

Jude looked in her direction and instantaneously knew what she was thinking, he always knew and he always catered to her feelings. He put a gentle hand on the small of her back and whispered into her ear.

"We can leave if you'd like. We wouldn't want little prince to see you unhappy. But he has to find out sooner or later." He ruffled the boy's hair.

She didn’t know which “he” he was talking about. She hoped that it would be the one in her arms. She looked at him. Even with the smile, there is a bit of languish in his voice and that's the thing that makes all of Alexis's introspection perish from existence. She looks into his eyes a brushes the entire ordeal off of her shoulders.

"Jude, I probably won't even see him. We have an agenda and so does he."

She hopes.  
 

 

* * *

 

     The hotel is an absolute beautiful sight. Traditional and sophisticated furniture lines the walls of The Windsor Court in downtown New Orleans. Floating chandeliers seemed to follow them with every step they took to get to their room. 

Jude dropped the whole, _"I don't want to see my baby daddy, who doesn't know he is my baby daddy"_ conversation with Alexis a couple of minutes ago. He had moved on to drawling. Drawling about the festival. How it’s going to be a big step up from the last and how they could win humanitarian awards for their hand in the creation of it and blah, blah, blah, the only person actually listening and responding was the baby.

Alexis's head was too busy being clouded by London's memories. They came flooding back to her and suddenly, surprising even her, tears were falling from her eyes. It took a moment for Jude to realize that the baby was doing all of the talking and that Alexis had gone completely silent. He takes awhile to figure things out sometimes. He turned his head to look at her as they walked. It was only a single tear. A solitary tear that let him know that she wasn't completely over Benedict and them being there wasn't exactly helping.

She knew that he was watching her, but he took too long to say something about it. They had already reached the room and she was gathering the child when he asked if she was, "Okay."

She found her key, unlocked the door and responded with, "I'm fine, Jude. Goodnight." And with that, she closed the door in his face. His beautiful, Jude Law looking face.

He knew better than to trust a woman who says that she is "fine."

Oldest trick in the book.


	3. cvs and pregnancy tests

 

    Those moments had long burned into the back Alexis's mind. Almost as if there were a PowerPoint presentation bringing into notice all of the things she had done wrong. Flashes of days long past. The days after the Drear-Nighted December when she found out the truth. That Benedict had been unfaithful. That Benedict cheated.

Weeks had gone by since she left London and she had longed for some sort of emotional sustenance to comfort the ache in her heart. It was all Benedict's fault. He didn't come after her.

Her days had become dreary. She had lost all hopes of ever going back to her usual vibrant and bubbly self. She became desperate and completely, irrevocably depressed. So she turned to her old friend from University days.

Sweet old Mr. Alcohol.

First it was just small glasses wine in between silent tears and confessions but then it became hard core, American liquor in between drunken rages. The poor woman had no idea of the life growing inside of her.

The tears had long stopped only terrible mood swings remained consistent. She would get sad, gradually become angry and head for the nearest location that sold any type of alcohol. The intention was never to get hammered, the reasons for her madness were only established to help her forget. Forget everything and start anew. But mostly forget Benedict.

How could alcohol drown the memories of what her life was, what it could have been? With Ben. The sad truth for Alexis was, that it wouldn't, the alcohol would never be her savior but it damn sure would suppress her thoughts down for a couple of hours. At most. Maybe, if she was lucky. At least she wasn't on drugs.

And there she was, bent over her dirty, porcelain toilet bowl, throwing up. Absolutely no memories are gone. None at all.

She only inherited a throbbing headache and an unusual craving for Cocoa puffs.

Cocoa Puffs. Where the hell did that come from? She hadn't had those in years but, hell. She wanted them and she wanted them, now.

She headed for her neighborhood drug store. As she walked out of her newly rented Victorian-style townhome, she turned the collar of her black peacoat up to shield her neck from the wintry chill and looked to the grey sky. Clouds were looming above her head. Causing it to be darker than usual despite the time of day.

So much for forgetting London. Shreveport is shit for that in the winter time. Far as she was concerned, both cities were wet and cold.

She walked towards a glowing, red sign that spelled out CVS. She had specially chose a house that was close to the main road for quick pick ups from the grocery.

She entered the store with the sole purpose of finding Cocoa Puffs, only stopping when she passed the women's aisle. The white floors and white walls made the products stand out purposely and she instantly gave in to the consumer draw-in scheme. Her eyes scanned contents of the shelves.

Pads, tampons, and panty liners filled her line of vision.

When was the last time she used those?

She looked over the aisle some more. Everything seemed foreign to her. She hadn't had her normal symptoms to warn her that her period was coming. Her knees weren't hurting and her boobs didn't ache. But the craving for chocolate was there. Maybe she is just late or maybe she's...... No it can't be.

When was the last time she had done _it_?

When?

 _It_ had to be a while back. No, the last time she had done _it_ was with him. She remembered that night fondly and bitterly.

Maybe she should pick up a few more bottles.

She took one last glance at the aisle before her eyes landed on something she thought that she'd never use.

Pregnancy tests.

She ended up grabbing three different brands of tests and two boxes of Cocoa Puffs. The clerk looked at her as if she was insane once she added a a bottle of wine to the checkout counter.

"Unusual choice in merchandise ma'am." The older woman said. Ringing up the assortment of items slowly. Picking up each item with weathered hands. Alexis twiddled her thumbs half listening. It's only what the woman said next that fully grabs her attention.

"You know darling, you look a bit frightened." She says after ringing up the bottle of wine and shaking her head.

"I am." She responds. It's the absolute truth.

The older woman stops ringing up her items and looks Alexis up and down. The look on the old woman's face is heartbreaking. It's the look that you would give your television when it plays the commercial with the starving children that seem as though they are staring at you and begging you to give them a way out.

Yes, that's the look that the woman is giving Alexis.  
A look that you would never want to receive from someone. Ever. It's sad.

"I know that we don't know each other's stories but," she stopped to clear her throat. "If you see those little pink lines, you can't stay the way you are now. This," she gestured toward the bottle of wine,"Has to stop."

Alexis looked down at the old woman's name tag with tear-filled eyes.  
It read, "Joan Asher"

"I.... I'm, I'm so sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me." Alexis said. She became a little hysterical.

"Hush now." Joan said tenderly. "I've seen you a lot round here and I believe that I should have said this sooner but you're young and you're too pretty to be in such condition."

"You. You think I'm pretty?" Alexis said in a joking manner.

"Yes I do." She laughed heartily. "Now I want you to take that test and come back and tell me what it reads."

And there it was, the infamous, two pink lines. _Holy Shit_.

Everything after that became blurred only the sound of her son crying and furious knocking on her hotel door remained.

_It was only a dream an all too familiar dream._

She gathered her son in her arms and began to kiss him and comfort him.

"It was only a bad dream, just a bad dream." Alexis whispered into the mess of curls on his head.

"Just a second!" She called out to the knocking on her door.

"Is everything alright in there?" A familiar voice boomed through the door of the hotel room.

"Uh, I'm sorry for the noise." She put the little boy down and gave him kiss on those beautiful, sharp, tear-stained cheeks. She rushed to the door.

"I'm so very sorry, it's late and my son.."

She stopped to get a look at the man standing in her hotel doorway.  
It was a very tired looking Benedict but Benedict all the same. He took a sharp intake of breath. She did the same.

They just stood there looking at each other. Her eyes, shocked. His, (once she realized who she was)begging and desperate. He hoped that she was just a figment of his imagination. God, how he wished to touch her and caress her and marry her. Three years without her, it had been way too long.

It was only the little voice next to them that had brought them back to reality.

"Mommy, I'm sleepy."

She laughed nervously and gathered the child into her arms.

"Alexis." The word barely a whisper on the tip of his tongue. She purposely ignored him.

Benedict's universally colored eyes looked towards the child and back to his mother, repeatedly. She watched on as the realization materialized in Ben's eyes. He swallowed deeply, she had given him the one thing he wanted most desperately in this world and because of his foolish actions, it was no longer within his reach. Yet, it was.

“What is his name?” Ben asked, voice breaking, not taking his eyes off of the little boy.

She exhaled her shaky response.  
"Asher Lorne Dupree."

The small child waved to the man in front of him.

"Hi." He said

Benedict responded with tears forming within his eyes.

"Hi Asher."

And there she was, closing the door in yet another man's face, for the second time tonight.

British men and doors never ended well with Alexis.


	4. ceiling fan

       Alexis was stretched over her hotel bed. No words were able to be formed and uttered from the depths of her throat. Her eyes were fixed, but blankly, at the white of the ceiling. As she exhaled a trembling breath everything flies away and she comes to a realization. A stupid one, really. Among all of the modern lighting fixtures and furniture, there was a ceiling fan in the room of her hotel.

It seems so out of place. Old amongst the new. It's propellors spinning, slowly, as everything around her seemed to move fast.

Somehow, Asher had fallen asleep on her arm. She tried to follow in his little footsteps and go to sleep as well but she couldn't. God knows she tried. It's all of the noise that keeps her awake. The noise coming from the outside of her door bothered her to the point of no rest.

All of that damned noise.

No, it's not the boogeyman, it's Benedict.

He hasn't left since she closed the door in his face a couple of hours before. He has been making small pleas to her from the opposite side of the door. They've been getting quieter and quieter by the minute, to the point of being inaudible to Alexis's ears. But it's still to noisy for her to drift to sleep.

It's her heart. It's way to loud.

_Thump..._

_Thump...._

_Thump....._

Oh, how she wishes it was the boogeyman.

_Thump..._

_Thump...._

_Thump....._

_Groan.....  
_

_Grunt......  
_

_Moan.....  
_

She maneuvers her arm from Asher's grasp and comes to the door but she doesn't open it. She only puts her back to it and slides down to the floor.

She flips her head so her cheek is pressed to the door. "Benedict, you need to leave." 

"I won't. Alexis, please. Can I...... Can I just see him." He says it flatly, without anger nor bitterness, a flat response without hope. He isn't sure that he will get an answer from her, but it wouldn't hurt to ask again.

To his surprise, he gets a response. No words, only an exasperated sigh, the shuffling of feet, and the click of the lock on the door.

 At the sounds, Benedict scrambles to his feet.

 

* * *

 

 His breath catches in his throat at the sight of her. Hair, mussed. Clothes disheveled. Eyes, rimmed with red from the tears that have yet to fall. She looks like an exact mirror image of him. Tired but beautiful.

 _So beautiful_.

"Alexis, I...." He started to say something but she cuts him off with the raising of her palm.

 _Such a beautiful palm._ He muses.

Honestly, he's glad that she did. All of his thoughts had been dulled by the erratic thumping of his heart. He swears that she could hear it. Or at least he wishes she would. Truthfully, she almost could hear a muffled thump over her own.

"I have no intentions of speaking to you tonight. I opened the door so you could see your son. After that, you must leave us."

He looked her into her eyes with an intensity that he only hoped conveyed his inward feelings of despair, shame, humility and guilt. But most of all, his love for her and the little boy sleeping soundly in the bed a few steps over. 

And she knew, oh she knew.

Her heart couldn't bare it.

She quickly found interest in the pattern of the carpet.

_Thank God for floral rugs._

She gestured for him to follow her into the dimly lit hotel room.Timidly, he followed her. He didn't want to provoke her. He was lucky that he has gotten this far. There were so many words that he wished to say but the thumping of his heart drowned out his thinking process.

Then he saw him. Curls splayed into a halo around his head. His son. Asher.

At that very moment, every priority in Benedict's life changed. Everything from now on would be about Alexis and Asher. No compromises. Only commitment.

He kneeled at the foot of the bed and took in the precious sight in front of him. He was a father.

_Wow._

"He's perfect." He whispered loud enough for Alexis to hear him.

"Yes, he is." Alexis whispered to him from the couch on the other side of the room not caring if he heard or not.

Then, after that, there aren't any sounds. Only the click of the fan as it rotated. Alexis lifted her head to stare at it again.

_So out of place. Old amongst new._

Then she came to another stupid realiztion, that her heart didn't beat so loudly.

Neither did his. Absolute silence.

Silence is great for sleep. And so they did. Both of them. Right where they were. They will deal with the rest tomorrow.


	5. lessons from the father

 

The prepossessing morning with its mellow sounds of nothing roused her from her partial state of unconsciousness. She waits a while to congregate her senses and then she opens her deep-set, dark brown eyes and winces at the brightness of the room. Her vision has blurred temporarily but her hearing remains intact. Just as Alexis had gone to sleep, she had woken up to nothing but silence. This silence. The smooth, exquisite, unusual, yet familiar silence.

Noise had been an essential element of her life. Silence became foreign. It’s being such an essential element, naturally, it’s supposed to noisy right now. Not the type of rambunctious noise fashioned by poorly operating machines but the sweet kind, the type fashioned from the body of an infant. The type of noise to be fashioned by Asher. Annoying at times, but sweet, all the same. Where on earth is he? Her conscience thinks of worst thoughts a mother could think of when searching for her lost child.

Just as her self-control is being conquered by horror, she perceives a sound. The absolute most beautiful sounds to ever reach the ears of man.

 Laughter.

Two special forms of laughter.

She rushes to meet the sounds. Her eyes become wide; her heart pounds wildly and then, unpredictably, it stops and relief deluges her person.

The sight before her is too lovely. A father and a son, indulging in the ridiculous act of bursting bubbles that flutter around the bathroom.

"And the bubbles, they go? They go what, Ash?" The deep-voiced man says as he pokes a very large bubble.

"Pop! Pop! Pop!" The boy snickers.

Benedict is giving Asher a seemingly much required bath.

 

* * *

 

  
Benedict woke up after he felt relentless poking to his nose and light giggles. He woke up. To his lovely, little boy. Humorously, Benedict groans loudly and plops his head back down the bed.

"Shhhh..... Mommy is sleeping." Asher says in between giggles as he pulls a piece of Benedict's hair. He looks up at the little boy sitting cross legged no less than three inches away from his head.

"Sorry.” He says nervously, remembering that she is sleeping of the couch behind him. He looks at her, and smirks, “Sorry Ash, You're right." Benedict says with a genuine smile, getting a good look at his son.

"You know me?" The little boy asks tilting his head to the side. He was already good at interrogating strangers. Just like Mommy taught him.

Benedict laughs. "Yes I know you, but not a lot about you. Would you like to tell me about you?" Benedict asked as he tickled the little bare feet placed in his line of sight. Cringing inwardly at his lack of pronouns in his last sentence. He is always one for using an extensive vocabulary. Especially, in one sentence. He then remembers that his son is only three. Why would he need to impress? Goodness, his son is three years old; he missed the most important years of childhood with his baby. He isn’t even a baby, goodness Benedict, why were you such a twat? He could have had that. And with the woman he loves…… or loved. Does he love her? Benedict looks at his son, who is suppressive laughing, still trying to keep quiet, and then he looks at Alexis.

Hell yes he loves her. He realizes that he should stop tickling Asher before they wake her.

"No. You sound funny." Ben laughs at his son's observation, "Like Unc....." _Grrrrrrowwwwwllllllll._ The little boy's stomach interrupts his sentence. They laugh together, "I'm hungry.” Asher says and stops to look at Benedict. “I don't want to wake Mommy up." The next part causes Benedict to laugh almost _too_ loudly.

"She can't cook good." He whispers scandalously with the back of his hands hiding his mouth from Alexis’s view. Not that she could really see them, let alone hear him.

So that's why Asher is getting cleaned because Benedict, being the gullible man he is, believed him as he insisted that he was familiar with how to make pancake batter from scratch. Yes indeed, bad idea.

After the blender exploded, they made a promise.

“I won’t tell her, if you won’t.” Benedict says to Asher whose hair is covered with batter.

“Deal.” Asher responds through batter-filled eyelashes. Benedict lifts him from the island to place him on the floor.

“I don’t think we needed the blender.” Benedict says wiping the batter from his hands.

 

* * *

 

"Uh oh." Asher says poking Benedict's hand as he washes his hair.

"What? Is the soap in your eyes?" Benedict asks genuinely concerned about his son’s health.

Instead of answering Ben himself, Asher simply grabs Benedict's cheeks and turns his face toward the bathroom doorway.

"Oh. Uh oh is right." Benedict says to himself.

"Asher, What have I told you about talking to strangers." Alexis says rushing to get him out of the tub.

"But," Asher starts.

"No buts.” She turns her attention towards Benedict, “You need to leave." She says firmly.

"No,” He starts.

“Excuse me.”

“I will leave, later, but now,” he points a finger at her, “you are going to listen to some unanswered questions." He waits for her to retaliate and when she doesn't he goes on. “And, “he pauses, “you will answer them.” His voice has gone low with his first question, "Why didn't you tell me about our child?"

"Mommy, who is this? Asher asks curiously, confused by the situation.

She dreaded the day when he would ask her that. She obeys Benedict’s request and answers his question first deliberately trying to hide the truth for a little bit longer.

"I didn't know that I was pregnant when I left Ben. Since we live five-thousand miles apart, it just made sense not to tell you. I never thought I would see you again, honestly. But then again we both know you never loved me like I deserved, so why would I burden you.”

“It would have never been a burden. You know how much I want to be a father and I do.... did love you.” He said calmly. He lied with that little bit on the end though. It was obvious.

She blinked. “But not enough to keep from cheating on me.” She said to herself.

"Mommy, who is this?" Asher asks impatiently, squirming in his mother’s arms to get her attention.

For every step that Benedict to toward her, she took two steps back. “Lex, when you left me, I was lost. I'm sort for taking you heart and then crushing it in front of your face.” He confided. He stopped trying to get close to her once they reached the main room. She didn’t realize that she was there until he stopped talking.

“I’m sure you wanted Olivia more than me. I was stupid enought to go along with it for the short time we were together. I’ve accepted that what happened is in the past. You’ve moved on. I’ve moved on. I have a life here in Louisiana with Asher and you have your life in London.” She said without breaking eye contact.

“I want to be part of our son’s life.” He asserted.

“Then be. I’m not going to stop you Ben.”

“Lex, what makes you think I would leave you and him? You of all people know how badly I want…” He started to say.

“Ben.” She firmly interrupted him. She knew what he was going to say. Everybody knew the aspiration of the one and only Benedict Cumberbatch. 

Ben placed his palms up in front of him. “Of course, of course, I know I've told you before.” He surrendered.

"Thank you." She sighs with content, "I'll be in New Orleans for a week with a close friend of mine for plans for the music festival and then I'm going back to Shreveport. You can stay with Asher whenever your schedule can handle him. If I can trust you with him I might let him stay with you when I go back and pick him up when...."

"Please, Mommy, Who is......" Asher pleaded.

"Asher, this is your father. His name is Ben."

"But he was here last night." He says.

"Yes he was." Alexis says looking at Ben.

“But he’s white,” he raises his left hand to compare the two tones of skin, “I’m brown.”

“Yes he is and yes you are.” Alexis repeats.

"Why is he here?" Asher asks.

"Because I wanted to see you again." Benedict says with his eyes glued directly on Alexis.  
  
The boy turns his head to his mother.

"Mommy,"

"Yes darling." She says.

"Then he isn't a stranger and I can talk to him. Can he stay longer?"

"For a little while."

The boy stops looking at his mother to look at Ben.

"Daddy?" He asks Benedict.

"Yes." He replies happily. This is his first time to ever be called that. _Daddy_. It suits him.

He’s got the boy, now he has to get the girl. To be honest he is surprised that he even got that far.

"We didn't get to eat." Asher says with a frown.

“I can make something baby,” she puts the half naked boy down to walk into the hotel room kitchen, “Just let me see what we have in the fridge.”

Benedict smiles goofily at the little boy but it quickly disappears once he realizes that they haven’t cleaned the kitchen from there early morning escapades. Asher has realized too.

“WAIT!” the two boys say.

“What. On. Earth.” Alexis says to the kitchen nightmare before turning to raise her eyebrows at the smiling boys.

Too late. They’re screwed.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. powdered beignets

 

  
  
  
Jude sat athwart from her with a platter of beignets, his cell phone, and the child. Alexis caught his stare and he averted his gaze to the blank screen of his cellular device. There was absolutely nothing on his phone. No calls. No texts. Nothing. It was only an escape. An escape from those seemingly other worldly dark, brown, and almond shaped eyes. His attention couldn't seem to be captivated by business or pleasure for his attention was being captivated by the beautiful queen adorned in a crisp light blue seersucker dress.

Perhaps that could suffice as pleasurable.  
  
Jude's sapphire eyes wandered over her body. Her skin glowed in the afternoon light making the dress look even whiter pressed upon her milk chocolate skin. Her skin was smooth and filled with thickness quite deliciously. She hadn’t a small, anorexic model figure. No. Not by any means. She was full and thick. She had the build of a plus size model.  The form you would witness if you open a Lane Bryant, Maurice's, Torrid, or several glossy magazines of that sort. She was gorgeous, perceptibly but, through Jude's eyes, she was also....improved.  
  
Well, more improved than the last time they had laid eyes on one other. What changed in the last twelve hours when he was away from her? He would have to ask her that later. But for this moment, he would just sit and admire the view.  His eyes drifted to hers, they weren't focused upon him but they appeared brighter, calmer, and less tearful. After licking his lips, he closed them.  Then they broadened out into an extensive, toothy smile, once is eyes had settled on her neck. Her décolletage was christened by a diamond necklace with two A's and a J. He had given it to her last year for her birthday. It was the only ornament to adorn her person.  
  
"And what are you smiling about?" Alexis asked the gentleman in front of her.

Jude was wearing clothes with flair of smart casualness; his torso was wrapped in a grey short sleeved button down, while his lower body was clad in a pair of black shorts of a somewhat khaki-like cloth. His posture was comfortable, yet sexy in a way that constantly screamed, Jude.  He stopped smiling and tore a piece off of the powered pastry on his plate. Oh, it was delicious. Sweet. He grinned again, smugly.  
  
"You are wearing my necklace." He said, after allowing the dessert to pass through his esophagus.  
  
Once the words slithered sincerely from his lips, her hands reach up to fiddle with the letters on the chain. She looked at him with concern. Her words quickly flooded the air around them.  
  
"Should I not have worn it? Does it come across as…… ostentatious?"  
  
Instead of saying words, Jude expressed amusement at her impulsive apprehension.  
  
"No. No, pet. The necklace is fine. You just haven't worn it in a while. That's all my sweet." He said, putting her at ease.  
  
"You look really…….” He stopped to pull on his collar as he cleared his throat, “You look good, Lex."  
  
She looked at him and smiled. After a moment, she closed her eyes and inhaled the sultry air around them. The noisy sounds of the world famous Café Du Monde became dull and the blissful sounds of nature elevated. The sounds of feeding pigeons and the whistle of the breeze filled her contentment.

 She replied without opening her eyes.  
  
"I feel good, Jude."

 

* * *

  
  
  
Comfortable silence ensued. For a little while. Until Jude started laughing and Alexis's text alert went off simultaneously.  
  
Jude was laughing maniacally…

Alexis winced at the message as soon as it appeared on the screen…

He laughed at Asher who hadn't said words since the first batch of beignets were placed upon the table.

She winces because her message is from Benedict. It read:

 **I really would like to see my son again. I know that you are busy with work; I suppose that I could take him off of your hands for the day tomorrow. Please, text me soon. Filming will be over in an hour, I’ll need to know your answer soon so I can make arrangements for the day.  -B**  
  
 Besides the opening sentence in the text message, the disposition was rather formal. Formality is the epitome of self control. She discerns Benedict; she is the one who said that he could be in Asher’s life, she know that he has wanted children, anyone who has seen one interview with Benedict knows that, she knows that Benedict will stop at nothing to have his child in his life. He has obviously had time to think about this since this morning, he obviously must be prepared for his abrupt task of being _Daddy_ , a parent. He’s situated, but is she?

No. She has to tell Jude.

_Jude._

Jude's name is overshadowed by his irrating laughter. The crazy man will not listen.

She continues calling his name, over and over. Trying to get his laughter-filled attention. She eventually resigns and sighs, sick of his maniacal laughter. She stopped his imprudence and his heart with two words.

"Benedict knows."

 

* * *

 

 

As she begins to tell Jude of the unfortunate events of last night, Jude becomes completely soundless. Honestly, he is just trying to comprehend the position Alexis is in. When he doesn't retort, she continues. "He texted just then, he wants to get Asher for the day tomorrow." She pauses to look at the little boy with the light blue polo shirt on filled with powdered sugar. He is silent as well.

 "I don't know if I am ready for that Jude. I mean, this is new to me. I'm not exactly sure of how to handle the situation."

Jude sits there with a napkin placed upon his lips and his eyes fixed directly on her.

“I don’t know, pet. I understand that you aren’t sure that you want to leave Little Prince with Big Ben but, from what you just told me, you said that you wanted to have Big Ben as Father Ben Bear so, let him be. But I don’t know, Lex, I really am not a good mentor; I’m only a good listener.” He used the exact words she used before to cover Benedict’s superstar status.

He tells her the truth when he tells her that he doesn't exactly know what to do. Because he doesn’t.

 "Well, pet. Maybe we should call _The_ _Authority_." He says with a trademark laugh.

 "Who?" She asks with a very curt tone, rubbing the mounting lines on her brow.

"The people you didn't call when we got here." She looks at him quizzically, Alexis is a exceptionally smart woman but when Jude realizes that she doesn't identify who he is talking about, he continues.

"Your mother and father, darling."  
   
 

* * *

  
   
Benedict stared at himself in the mirror of his trailer and looked at himself as he spoke through the phone. He looked better than last night, much better. But his voice expressed his emotion better than his face did. It wasn’t his usual _Jaguar In A Cello_ , it was full of weary and his lisp was beginning to set in. After his explanation of the past events the first words uttered from the other person in the conversation were:

 "What the fuck, Benedict. You sent her a text!"  
  
 He stops to look at the phone in his hands. Just to make sure that the person yelling at him through the line is his mother.

He looks at the phone to see her face smiling at him along with his father’s.

Yep. It's her.

He is pretty sure that she isn’t smiling at him now, " Yes, I texted her after I left this morning,” he pauses when he realizes that he has been put on speakerphone. Possibly for his father’s sake. “Mom, I know it's crazy. But it's true. I am a father and you are a Grandmother and Dad, Congratulations on your first Grandchild!" He laughs nervously as he run his fingers through his hair.  
  
"So. Will I be able to see my three year old Grandson soon?" Timothy asks slowly still trying to comprehend the jumbled slur of words uttered out of his son's mouth.  
  
 He rubs his free hand on his thigh and then touches his lip, "I hope so. I'm going to have the day with him tomorrow. I'll send you pictures of him, Dad. God, Mom he's gorgeous. He looks like me! He perfect and smart and…. and lovely like his mother." He rambles on and on about the little boy he met earlier this morning. Then Wanda interrupts him with a question that he truly cannot answer.  
  
"Benedict, will we be able to see Alexis soon?"

He thinks.

“I’ll be lucky if she even texts me back.”  
   
 

* * *

  
 

You would expect Alexis to get a "What the fuck," from her mother but that's not exactly what she says. It's more of a hearty laugh and a "Yeah, I know."

How in the hell does she understand? It's not like she planned this, right? Then Alexis remembers who her mother is. She easily forgets sometimes but her mother always has a peculiar way of reminding her of her position. She looks down at her Café Au Lait and speaks lowly.  
  
"Geneva Dupree. You didn't." Alexis says to the speaker of her phone.  Jude looks at her and frowns. Asher is completely enthralled in a beignet. Subsequently, it's pretty much hushed save for the pigeons in the region of the Café and noisy customers.  
  
Alexis's mother, Geneva Alexandra Hewitt-Dupree, is a woman who owns several hotels around the world. Her husband, Terry Lorne Dupree is a financial adviser. He works with a lot of big names, such as the Clinton’s and the Cameron’s. The potential couple met when Terry was working for the Hewitt’s back in 76'.

The couple - a perfect match made in heaven.

Together they are a powerful couple. Almost too powerful. He is a money manager and she is a businesswoman with lots of businesses. The W. being one of them.

Alexis isn't exactly a poor girl. Not by any means.  
  
"No not me darling, your father." She says while cutting apples to go into her tart.

Alexis's gag-reflex had been put to test with Geneva's words.

"No," The first time Alexis said this, it was said with a feeling of absolute disbelief. The second time was only for recovery. 

"No, he didn't do this mom. He wouldn't want me to be with Benedict. Don't you remember the conversation held between us on Asher's first birthday? When I almost gave in and went back to him?"

There was no reason for Alexis to remind Geneva of the three year old's first birthday "celebration." They both knew about that day, but they tried to keep it in a distance. Geneva curled her finger around a lock of her grey hair and released a deep breath.

"He wanted..... a change."

It was the only way she could describe her husband's decision to her daughter, for now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 


	7. something of the past

  
August 11, 2011

  
Alexis's eyes were held captive by her mother. She was waltzing around the main room, treating the guest to champagne with raspberries, chatting with them about the random subjects being presented to her. Geneva looked absolutely gorgeous, the leading lady. Her body seemed to be melting into the gold dress that adorned her with every stride she seized. Her dark, aged hair, framed her face perfectly as it cascaded down her strong frame. After observing her mother for a period of time, Alexis’s dark eyes roamed toward to conductor of a loud shrill. Asher. The then red-headed child was surrounded by doting company who couldn’t keep their exclamations of adoration contained, when her father gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. Alexis almost couldn’t either. They were extremely, endearing.

 

* * *

 

 

Laughter erupted from her throat as well as the other throats around the room when Asher removed the kiss from his grandfather off of his sharp cheek. Those cheeks that look so much like his father’s. Good thing nobody had asked that dreaded question. Good thing Asher’s parentage was not topic of discussion. The party was dangerous, that question could be brought up at any moment. Alexis blinked her eyes at the thought. She swiftly composed her conscience and indulged in the sight before her.  
  
Terry held her son in his arms, showing off the growing boy to the guests that surrounded them. As if used to this, Asher willingly adapted into the role of becoming “the life of the party,” This is _his_ party, he might as well be. This party is ridiculous. Enormously ridiculous.  
  
"One years olds birthday parties are supposed to be in a back yard with blow up jumping houses and cartoon characters and things that children would like. The kids don't even seem to be enjoying this." Alexis said bitterly to Joan Asher as she popped a cream puff into her mouth.  Joan looked at the girl leaning against the neutrally colored wall behind her. A smile crept upon her weathered face as she shook her head disapprovingly at Alexis’s remark.  
  
Some of the filling from the pastry spilled onto her dark blue chiffon dress. She wiped it hastily, demanding not to have the emulsion situate itself into the fabric.  
  
"The kiddies seem to be having fun," Joan said as she grabbed a napkin, dabbed the stain on Alexis's chest and simultaneously pointed her hand towards the younger group of attendees.  
  
Alexis’s eyes followed Joan's free hand and stopped once she saw the children in the kitchen. They were decorating their miniature cakes with icing and candies. Alexis laughed once she realized that their faces were covered more than the cake.  
  
Alexis's laughter stopped and she rolled her eyes once she remembered the main cake choice that was made two weeks in advance. “Who in the hell has a main cakefor a birthday party? A child’s party! Joan, have you seen it? It's three god damn tiers! This party seems like a damn engagement party than a one year olds birthday party. Damn my mother."  
  
Geneva eventually made her way to the area that her daughter was occupying.  Once her ears perceived the comment that fell from her daughter’s lips she punched her arm lightly, causing a laugh to gurgle from Joan.  Geneva scolded her daughter, "You know you like it.  I raised a princess for a daughter. I can raise a prince for a grandson." Once Geneva stopped her minuscule lecture, she hesitantly handed her daughter a glass of champagne. Alexis took it politely and after taking a leisurely, timorous sip, she relished in the tingle dominating her tongue. Her prior drinking problem had been an avoided topic of discussion. As Joan observed, Alexis was going to do well tonight. Her first alcoholic beverage in a year. Perhaps this party was for two reasons.

 

* * *

 

 "You're going to make him gay, mother dear." Alexis mumbled under her breath but just loud enough for her mother to hear it. Watching her daughter intently, Geneva replied to her daughters remark with a stern motherly tone, "Watch your mouth, child. There are kiddies here." Geneva says with a raised eyebrow.

  
"What on earth have you done to that dress? Goodness," she sighed as she pinned the sapphire pendant that was originally on her dress to her daughter's chest to cover the stain, “Go entertain your guests. Stop holding Jo captive." She says as she places a hand on Joan's blue and gold paisley dress. Joan shook her head feverishly in an agreeing manner.  
  
"Yes dear, you should be talking to sixty-eight year old women like me.  I'm not that interesting. Go find somebody to have sex with.” She stopped to point out a figure in the crowd of strangers that her mother invited. “She that man, he has a nice face and a wonderful choice in shoe wear." Alexis snorts at her preposition. Geneva nods her head in agreement.  Alexis’s eyes go to the man that Joan had indicated. She confirmed that he indeed had a nice face. The man’s figure was of a physically powerful compromise. He was tall and dark. His face reminded Alexis of her father’s face. Undeniably handsome. His shoes however caught her attention. Suede. Blue suede.  
  
Geneva's name called over the classical piano playing in the background took Alexis out of her clinical daze. Her mother whispered something of importance into Joan's ear and walked toward the sound of her name. Joan looked at Alexis after a moment and spoke cautiously. She didn't want to provoke her, so she simply nodded toward the champagne glass and said, "Just the one."  
  
"I know." Alexis says as she stalks toward the man with the blue suede shoes.  
  
  
Truthfully, she was really enjoying the company of the handsome stranger. His name was Jameson Coffery. He was a fashion designer who specialized in men’s footwear. Alexis had heard of the company J. Co & Co. but it wasn’t an issue. It didn’t matter because the man had experience and composure. James was the epitome of similitude morally, psychologically, and bodily of Benedict. Save for his looks, James was Benedict and Benedict was James. Her interest in the American fashion designer fell significantly as her love for the English actor reached new heights of alacrity. The current topic of conversation became dull and she completely stopped listening. Her mind was polluted with thoughts of Benedict.

 

* * *

 

 

 

She parted her lips and sipped her glass slowly, partially listening to the rambles of her male company. After awhile of partially engaging in the superfluous conversation she almost choked on the poison once several sly words fell from Jameson’s dark lips. Once she recovered, he continued his assault on her conscience.

   
"The boy," the dark haired man that looked like her father but had the likeness of Ben, pointed a finger towards the curly haired boy. "Who’s his father?"  
  
Stunned at his audacity, she dropped her partially full glass of champagne to the floor causing the slight noisiness in the room to silence. The shattered glass collected around her Jimmy Choo clad feet floor and every eye widened at her moronic action. It wasn't an accident; it wasn't Alexis's fault that she reacted that way. The fault was exclusively blamed on the gentleman with the suede shoes.  
  
  
Geneva walked quickly to the center of the room and spoke loudly to distract the guest from the scene taking place in the corner of the main room."I do believe that it's time to sing to the birthday boy!" She shouted to the enamored guests. She continued her attempt at distracting and then she began to sing the first lines of the song. Eventually, after some much needed time to process the circumstances, the guests joined in but the song is never finished for a thunderous influence interrupted the lyrics.  
  
"Everybody! Get Out!"

 

 After the words are out of Alexis’s mouth, the room is instantly silenced of it’s unpleasantly sang rendition of _Happy Birthday_. The awareness of the room is averted towards the roaring woman. Alexis repeatedly screamed at them, pleading to them, trying to get them to leave, yet no one moved from their position. They all just stood there and stared at her. The woman was mad.

 

Abashedly, Geneva put her hand on her forehead and spoke over her daughter's shouts.  
  
"Please excuse the abruptness of this,” She indicated her daughter, “but I do believe that it is time for the party to end."  
  
Confused murmurs emulated from the party attendees. All save for Jameson; he only leaned against the wall with a smile of fulfillment. With Geneva's words, Alexis silences her rampage and after a brief moment of stillness, the guest file from the house slowly, each taking confused looks toward the woman who started it all. Alexis.

 

* * *

  
  
The entire party of people left without any expressions or questions.

All gone except for one, the shoe man, Jameson.

Alexis's nostrils flared with anger, once she realized that he was still in her home. Terry remained silent, matter of fact; he didn’t seem irritated he only seemed to have a look of approval. Terry's laughter caused the group of irate women’s concentration to be diverted to him, flabbergasted. He broke the overwrought noiselessness to address his wife.  
  
"I told you that she wasn't ready." He says as he puts his grandchild down for the first time since the party began. He crossed his vein-filled, dense arms and Asher scampered toward his mother happily, almost oblivious to the scene playing in front of him. She bent her body to collect him into her arms.  
  
"You couldn't wait to prove your point, huh, Terry? Why now? Christ, Terry did you have to do it today? It’s his first birthday for god’s sake." Geneva said with a feral gesticulation.  
  
"What point?" Alexis asked with panache of fire behind her tone.  
  
Just as Geneva opens her mouth, Joan places her hands on her shoulder to silence her.

 "Let me tell her."

  
"Tell me what?" Alexis says to the woman who saved her life that day at the drug store. Joan paused to swallow.  
  
"Your father, your mother and I, wanted make sure you could do two things tonight." She said.  
  
"One, we wanted to make sure that you could handle alcohol responsibly, which you did perfectly, and two, we wanted to see how you would react to a person speaking to you of Asher's parentage." She stops again to gauge Alexis's reaction. The younger woman didn't respond to the older lady's explanation. She only sat down on the couch to gather her thoughts. Terry had long gotten up to cut a piece of the three tier red velvet cake. He returned to the chaise with four words.  
  
"And you failed, miserably." He continues talking after taking a bite and humming appreciatively.  
  
"Oh, and Jameson here works for me at the office. Wonderful actor isn't he?" He looks at Geneva, "I suppose that we should write _I'm Sorry_ slash _Thanks for Coming_ cards tomorrow.” He turned his head to his daughter, “ I didn't expect you to react that way. Great job, love."  
  
"You all are crazy." Alexis says as she paces the room with Asher in her arms. She stops when she remembers Benedict.  
  
"You know dad, I've been thinking about something."  
  
"And what is that, Loo?"  
  
Alexis groans.  
  
Loo is her pet name that Terry had given her as a child. It was her first sound made when they returned home from the hospital after Geneva had given birth to her. She loved it most of the time but at the moment she loathed it.  
  
"I've wanted to go back to London and tell Ben. I was skeptical of it but now I think that this..... was all I needed. Thank you for your little test. I'll be gone tomorrow."  
  
Terry looks at her with his eyebrows knitted in confusion. Then he turns his attention towards Jameson. "You can leave now, son. I'll speak to you tomorrow."  
  
Military training starting to demonstrate, Jameson straightens his back and marches out of the house. Once Alexis hears his car pull from the driveway she walks away to begin packing her things.  
  
Joan looks at Geneva who has her hands in her hair.  
  
"We should have done this later. Now she's leaving us. I'll go talk to her." Just as Joan begins to go after her, Terry stops her and mouths "I've got it."  
  
He does.


	8. something of the present

After she rocks Asher to sleep, Alexis takes her sleeping son to his room located on the second floor. She placed him in his crib and padded into the main room to finish packing her things for her unexpected trip to London. You would expect her to cry or lash out but no emotion radiate from her body but really she's just excited. She's wanted to go back to him for a while and she can't wait to jump into his arms and raise her son with him. She's forgiven him, in a way. Somehow.  
  
After walking towards her room, she encounters a tall, dark-haired man with strong arms and an irritated face. Her dad.  
  
She ignores his presence and commences her duty.  
  
"You’ve gotten yourself into a bit of trouble dear,” He says calmly placing his hands on the opposite wall in the hallway to block her from moving. Alexis looks at him with a stare hard enough to turn Medusa into stone.  
  
“No, Dad. I'm leaving." She says as she packs a diaper bag with Asher's essentials.  
  
Terry continues, nonchalantly, ignoring his daughter's seemingly irrational thoughts “And I’m here to fix it.”  
  
“Dad, stop.”  
  
“Why should I stop? I’m trying to help you.”  
  
“Dad.” Alexis says with force added behind it.  
  
“Now listen to me, because you raised your skirt and opened your knees and gave it away to a man who has too much power over you." At these words, Alexis stops to throw an equally matched stare to her father. He's gotten her full and undivided attention.  
  
He continues, "You’re not rare, you’re not special, and your story is no different than a thousand stories in this town. So you know how this goes. You are the daughter of Terry Dupree. ME. You have one up against the rest of them. People know who you are, people watch you every day because of ME.  You can call this in your sleep. First, they will smile and pat you on your back and tell you that they are on your side and that they love you and allow you to feel a full sense of false security's and then! When you are exposed and your belly is unprotected they will... Gut you and everyone you know! And baby they will be swift about it so please keep Asher in mind when you make your decision. When you try to fight back, you fall because you are already bleeding. That! Alexis Giselle Dupree is Benedict Cumberbatch, the Media, England, powerful people that you don’t even know!  Verses you. Whose victory do they think they will fight for?” A fiendish rage animated him as he said this, his face was wrinkled into a horrible contortion, offsetting his original handsome face; but presently calmed himself as he proceeded with his rampaging lecture towards his daughter.  
  
“He would never hurt me again, Dad. He still loves me. You don’t know anything.”  
  
He laughs a laugh of pure hate; it’s not directed towards anybody but himself. Terry is more than anyone would ever know, he doesn’t show it physically, but everything he does is out of his love for his baby girl.  
  
“He would never…” he says repeating his daughter’s words. “Please! Oh, baby. I know more than you would ever know. Things of which you cannot dream. He told you he would make you the first lady in his life and you believed him. Have I not raised you for better? And you ended up as a drunken heap of pregnant bullshit because you believed that he could make you his queen. You didn't need any of that. He broke you. He broke YOU! How many times have I told you what you have to be, what? You have to be?!?”  
  
“Twice as….” She started.  
  
“What?” Terry screams.  
  
She hears her mother say something to him from the living room about quieting down before he has wakes the child.  
  
Alexis’s voice breaks but no tears fall from her face, “Twice as good.”  
  
“Twice as good to get half of what they’ve got.” Terry says to save her from saying the words. She looks as if she would collapse unto the floor.  
  
“For God’s sake Alexis! Hell, you could have aimed higher. A CEO, a politician, a director! But you fell for the actor. The actor whose family I worked for. Do you have to be so mediocre?”  
  
Mediocre. Her father called her mediocre. Nothing could prevent the tears from falling down her face with that.

She eventually ended up staying home.

 

* * *

  
  
  
  
A lump formed in her throat as she remembered that night. It left her with a bruised ego and a battered heart. It was true. She wanted him. Then.  
  
"So why, mom? Why does dad want me to be with him _now_? I've moved on. So has he."  
  
"How do you know that? Judging from your father's surveillances, he's not committed to anyone."  
  
Alexis slaps her head with her hand. "You had him under surveillance."  
  
Geneva coughs into her hand, “Have him under surveillance. Not ridiculously of course. We just had to have precautions." Her last word made the sentence sound like a question. She continued her persuasion.  
  
"Look dear, just text him back. Let him be with Ash for the day. I have to go. Ta!"  
  
"No wait!"  
  
She disconnected the line. There were so many unanswered questions, so many confusing scenarios, so much suspense. Alexis stops to look at the table cloth. She grew very silent.  
  
Jude reached his hand out to touch her hand, she was lost and his touch brought her back. She looked into his eyes and frowned. He didn't pull away.  
  
"Text him." He said while stroking her finger with his own.

 She didn’t respond for awhile. She just looked at her son and picked up her phone slowly to reply to his preposition. Jude's and Benedict's preposition. It was only one word.

  **“Sure.”**


	9. singing oak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I express regret for the long awaited instances that have been effectively chapterless. Forgive me loves. The Southern Belle and English Gentleman have returned to wreak havoc on your feels. In other news………..
> 
> Whooooo!!!! Got more hits than John's blog. Thanks guys. It means a lot my darlings.
> 
> -AM (by the way those are not my real initials) 
> 
> P.S. Would you like to see what Asher looks like in my head? I’ll post a picture if you guys would like. You might actually know who he is, but we’ll see.
> 
> P.S.S. Thank you to one of my readers for inspiring the change in the series name. I didn't want to change it without thanking you margaret+bonnette!

The Singing Oak was ethereal in the first light – the astonishing crown jewel of City Park in New Orleans. The inimitable tree, known for its distinctive sculptural shape and gigantic wind chimes hanging from its branches, produced a cacophony of sound as powerful winds put them into action. The chimes, mixed with the sounds of content screams of delight, filled the space in which Jude, Alexis, and Asher inhabited. All three of their arms were outstretched, horizontally, as they ran the grounds of the park surrounding the tree, their persons imitating that of an airplane.

 

* * *

 

 

  Alexis wanted to come to this place for aesthetically pleasuring reasons and soon she would have to engage in a business transaction. What better place to do it than this? A beautiful, serene environment. Unfortunately, where perpetual resentment would soon be replaced. Why not kill two birds with one stone?

 

Jude and Alexis sat down on a bench under the oak and breathed. In and out, In and out, deeply, while watching the content young man roll in the grass. On her last breath she released, she added two words in a harmonious manner.

 

"He's late."

Although being put in a melodious approach, the two words portrayed by her voice were flat and filled to the hilt with the essence of annoyance. She was exasperated by the fact that the Anglo-Saxon man who should have been at the preferred location already, was not there.

 

She was aggravated at the audacity of the English actor who should have been there to pick up his son, Asher. Her eyes were darting back and forth from her son to the area where cars could have been parked. Alexis was searching for Benedict. She struck her fingers multiple times on the arm rest of the bench causing it to shake with the force being applied to it.  
  
"He is late. Ten minutes late."  
  
She pronounced each word separately as if being put into its own, individual sentences to emphasize her frustration.  She scratched her arm and looked around before pursing her lips. Benedict had always been one for tardiness but one would expect him to be on time for the sole thing he'd been begging for – a chance to see his son. An exaggerated shush from her male company washed all reticence from her person. She looked towards the man and shook her head while smiling. He knew that his plan to keep her from worrying would work.

 

“Quiet, pet. You’re ruining the chimes.” As he said this, he reached over, with his eyes closed, and plucked her in the center of her nose. With his actions, she blinked and giggled before sticking her tongue past her teeth to wave at him. He couldn't see it though. His eyes were closed.

 

Jude eventually opened his eyes and glanced at the woman by his side and grinned before laughing at her roguish face. Her head was thrown back with a pleased chuckle. The wind blew her hair in crazed directions, almost moving in time with the chimes in the background. Her white, Peter-pan collared shirt, a direct contrast to her skin, fluttered along with her hair. Her hands slapped her thighs repeatedly, creating a beat to the music playing around them.  After a while, she stopped, looked up, and rolled her eyes.

 

“He’s still late though.”

 

“Will you be quiet?” he huffed out after she finished. She repeated her earlier action and rolled her eyes again. “Close your eyes and listen. Just listen.”

 

She closed her eyes briefly before opening them in haste.

 

“What about Asher? Somebody has to watch him. With both of our eyes closed….” Before she could continue with her motherly fretting a familiarly unfamiliar voice interrupted her.

 

“If you’re busy, I think I will.”

 

* * *

 

She blinked her eyes and scrunched her nose but she did not turn around. Alexis didn’t have to turn around to know who spoke the sly reply. That voice, the one she’d branded eternally, the one that belonged to him, Benedict Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch. He observed that she hadn’t acknowledged his presence so he began to stroll to her procession of vision. He discerned her abundance of male company. When Ben allied the surname to the countenance, he disregarded the other man's attendance and spoke directly to his son’s mother.

 

“Jude Law,” he paused, “the friend you came with?”

 

Of course Benedict knew Jude. They are actors, you know. They’d been acquaintances. Well, the normal actor associates who gradually drifted away from each other’s lives. Benedict even used to fanboy over the man. Even study some of his work. At the contemplation, Alexis smirked. But it almost immediately faltered with her words.

 

“You’re late.” She says with an uplifted eyebrow.

 

 “I’m sorry,” he says in an unnecessary whisper, no one was within their quarter. “I am so sorry, Lex. I meant to be on time—”

“Then why weren’t you?” demands Jude in a low voice, before Alexis could chastise him. Benedict’s posture stiffened. The jovial regret on his features slithered away and was replaced with aggravation.

“My director needed to meet with me and….. traffic.” The final declaration was brusque.

“You couldn’t tell him you had somewhere more important to be?”

“It  _ran late_ , Jude,” Benedict repeated. “And you can’t exactly speak to traffic.”

 

Jude scoffed at his words. “We have a meeting at eleven, seeing as that you were late; we should hurry this….. appointment.”

 

The forced smile sporting itself on his lips grew fainter and Benedict’s face darkened. Alexis watched his jaw clench and unclench.

 

“It’s nice to see you too, Mr. Law.” Ben said with no particular emotion.

 

“Okay….. That’s enough.” Alexis said as she got up from her seat. The tension between the two men was rising steadily.

She walked towards her son. The men looked on with every step she took. Her Vince Camuto boots stomping the grass below her feet with determination. Once she reached her desired locale, she knelt to her son’s height and whispered into his ear. His confused look turned into one of imperial elation. Her rotated toward the tree to where to men was standing and, to despise of his father, ran to Jude.

 

“Hello, little prince……” Jude said while tickling him. Benedict was distraught.

 

“Asher?” he said softly to get his attention. His plea was drowned in the pool of laughter spilling from his son’s mouth. It wasn’t until he said Jude’s name when he finally got Asher’s attention.

 

“Daddy!” Asher said as he freed himself of Jude’s grasp.

 

Benedict gasped. He’s still new to that name for himself. It scares him a little. But it’s a good kind of scary.

 

“Asher, come here.” She expected him to walk to her; instead Benedict picked him up and walked toward her…. with him. They really do look alike especially together.

 

 She stood on the tips of her toes and puckered her lips.

 

“Kisses?”

 

Asher leaned towards his mother before giggling. She kissed him on his cheek. She placed a hand on Asher's head and fell to her original stature before telling him to "Be good for daddy."

 

Benedict watched her actions and put his head down shamefully. He was being envious toward his own son. 

 

She composed herself before carefully telling him something of severe importance.

  

“Be careful, I don’t want him to be plastered on the front of a magazine. He is not a charity case Benedict. I need you to be careful. I need to be able to trust you, kay?”

 

Benedict opened his mouth and looked around for something or someone to help him. As his eyes roamed around the park he found nothing but Alexis, a little boy, and Jude Law, someone he was growing envious of but steadily growing to hate with every passing minute. In the end he was searching for nothing. Absolutely nothing. Instead of speaking, he nodded his head in agreement.

 

"We have to go Alexis. Our first meeting." Jude said with conviction, ignoring Benedict's face. She turned to nod her head at him before striding toward their car. Benedict couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Neither could Jude.

 

Before she reached the car she turned back and waved.

 

Asher waved back as he was in his father’s arms. Benedict gazed at his son when he said “I love you, Mommy!” She yelled back her insurance. The words were meant for her son, but Benedict took notice of them and longed hearing them being said from her, to him, for him.


	10. benedict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> contains a sexual situation***

The purported parental swap appointments between Alexis and Benedict had been unproblematic - sort of. The “no communication unless absolutely necessary” routine was in total effect. Their gazes would remain cast downward or away from each other. Even if they had to look at each other, their eyes would be focused on a blemish upon their faces or simply the wall following them. Wavering hands would avoid touching, dithering breath would remain partially shared, and in the end there was nothing.

Not even a spark.

* * *

Alexis felt it to be endurable - stringently a business transaction. But Benedict, in exact juxtaposition to his parental counterpart - hated keeping his true sentiment of affection for her concealed by a veil of heartlessness.

In his mind, he thought it to be worse than being away from her all those years.

It was almost as if the two to them were placed on a deserted island, but there being a wall that was higher than his reach could place him and too low for even a grain of sand to breach - essentially indestructible. Yet that very same wall, unfortunately, was transparent enough for him to see her wandering the shore. The island was represented by Asher and the wall was represented by Jude Law. Candidly, Benedict refrained from complaint. Every minute with his son was glorious. He'd learned so much about Asher – his peculiar interest in meditation and undying passion for noodles. He’s very different from your run-of-the-mill three year olds.

Not to be biased, but it was a good kind of different. His different was unique.

* * *

Today would be, more or less, what would have been, the second to last day of Jude, Asher, and Alexis's presence in the City of New Orleans. Benedict's dilemma was that he didn't know how to feel about that. But, it's his entire fault. And boy, does he know it.

The fault is in the film and television star, Benedict Cumberbatch. He shouldn't have done it. It was a stupid idea. Well, a great one, in his mind, but stupid all the same and, just like all stupid ideas, it started with a dream. A dream that sparked something inside if him that spread through his mind like a cancer.

* * *

Even with the warmth of his hotel room bed; its large fluffy duvet, and equally comfortable pillow he couldn't rest his mind from the thought permeating its being. Benedict believed that something or someone rather, would come to the darkness of his room and bring him light tonight. His hands gripped the sheet in anticipation of perceiving the familiar sound of a knock on the door. He waited and waited for it, whatever it may be. And whatever it was it was frustrating him to the point of producing sweat on his brow. His breaths became shallow and his heart rate increased with the time spent waiting, inherently, for what seemed like nothing. Just when he was sure everything would fade, an almost silent rap against his door made his steadily increasing beat of his heart, cease.  


His duvet, slowly freed itself from beastly grasp of his hands. He sat up gently from his position, to not disturb the peace of something unknown, and walked timidly to the producer of the sound. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up with keen apprehension. His tongue ran over his teeth repeatedly as his large hand grasped the doorknob. Once it fully enveloped the knob, his actions sped up considerably, and as the door swung open, his anticipated guest was revealed. He didn't look anywhere but to the guests eyes. Even without grazing the guest's form he could tell that it was a woman. A woman with an extremely familiar set of deep dark brown eyes that burned into his heart and made blood rush toward his groin.

The woman at his door was Alexis.

 As his eyes roamed her body, he noted that her person was adorned with nothing but the tattered fabric of his old university shirt. She was barefoot and somehow, in the hall, where she was standing it began to rain. She was wet but she said nothing. She only stared at him through her rain-kissed lashes and parted her lips to say his name; only no sound came out, her lips only moved in the motion to convey her action to him. His desire for her was becoming evident. He felt like sweating, his breathing became elevated, as he felt a bit dizzy knowing that he was standing in her presence. He was unsure whether she would consent for him to touch her, run those fingers against that soft, sweet skin so he ran his hands through his hair instead... but oh dear lord that was all he wanted.  
 

But when she repeated her actions from before, he grabbed her by the fabric of his shirt and pulled her through the threshold, into the darkness if his room. As the light from the hallway streamed in he closed the door to capture it so he could illuminate his room. The light was dimmed to a sensually pleasing foreground - giving him a delightful view of her body. When the door finally closed he pressed against her to pin her to the door. He tilted her face up to him to lightly brush his lips against her wet ones. The sight alone, made him growl, but when he saw that she wasn't responding he stopped himself from going further. His curls flipped into his eye when he turned away in shame, his entire being still flushed with desire. "Benedict," she mouthed again, and with her actions, the figure faded and the walls around him turned to ash. Everything around him became bright. He closed his eyes, temporarily blinded by the light but when he opened them, the darkness of his room consumed him.

Benedict had awakened.

* * *

He was sweating and the sheets of the bed were completely soaked to the point of being see-through. Once his eyes had adjusted to the light in his room, he rolled to his side and groaned in pain.

"Shit." He said to himself, cursing at the erection making it known beneath his sheets. He wouldn't be able to sleep with this. He paused and tried to decide where to begin. Oh, it had been so long before he felt release with another woman running her fingers along the length of his girth... his breath caught with that thought.

Every few weeks he would relent to his body's incessant demands and sleep twelve hours straight, and those were the nights when his subconscious tended to wreak sexual havoc. He despised dreaming as a rule: especially about her, it was a waste of time. It wasn't like he could just have her. She wasn't there for those three years.

But he would have _others_. A substitute of sorts.

None competing with her sweet, wet...... "Hnnnnnghhhh" he groaned half in pain and half in pleasure when he rolled over to his side again and his hardness rubbed against the coolness of his bed. Should he even be thinking this way? With the way things are going, he almost feels perverted. But the way she looked in the dream… He tried to ignore it, but on these nights, there would always be dreams with her doing the dirtiest things, that left him hard and aching, waking on the verge of orgasm -- but always denied. Her being two doors away wasn't helping the fact.  


And on these types of nights he did, wrapping his fingers around his erection in the dark, half-asleep, fleeting images still drifting through his mind. It was quick and easy since he was close to begin with, and he could clean off his hand and go back to sleep right after. Wanting to repeat the process, but with her next to him. When they were together, he'd get hard at the mere thought of touching her, but it wasn't quite so straightforward now. The pain in her eyes being clouded by the ecstasy that used to be there. _She_ didn't feel that way now, but why was _he_ so hard now? He didn't get like this when he would see her in person. Only in the privacy of his bedroom were his conscious would purposely plant scenarios in his mind so he could get off on them.  


He furrowed his brow, bit his lip, and ground his cock into the bed below him. He parted his lips with an “Ahhmm.”  


Why was he doing this? He surely wouldn’t be able to face her tomorrow. Not confidently of course.

Maybe it was the way she scolded him on the first day and the other three for his tardiness. Or maybe it was the way she would look at him when he would do something fatherly towards Asher. Yep, that was it. The longing in her eyes turned him on. Did that mean she wanted him too? Yep.

The whole grinding thing was not enough. Back to the task at hand, so to speak. He flipped his body to face the ceiling. Slowly, he let his fingers trail down his chest slowly before untying the tie on his sleep pants and letting the fabric loosen around his hips. He didn't have underwear on beneath his pajama bottoms; so the first brush of his fingers against the shaft of his penis through thin cotton felt more pleasant than he'd expected. He focused on the ceiling as his fingers traced the length of his penis with light feathery strokes. His heart fluttered with his imagination believing it to be her touching him instead.  A few more times, dipping down once to cup his testicles, and there, a rush of heat and his penis, almost impossibly, was hardening even more. He slid one hand beneath the waistband and wrapped his fingers around the shaft. After a few tugs he realized he needed more space in which to work. He pushed the pajama bottoms down over his hips, then raised his knees and resumed stroking, slowly. It was pleasant, certainly. Most of his wee-hours wanks were quick and done in a state of semi-consciousness, so it was unusual for him to take his time like this. He replayed his dream in his head and imagined the rest to keep his mind occupied.  He took long slow strokes that pulled the foreskin up over the glans and hissed at the sensation then did short thrusts into the tight ring of his thumb and fingers, foreskin retracted. Differing his degrees of pressure, a variety of holds on the shaft, the addition of a small amount of natural lubrication. He was getting close now. Breathing in shallowly with his head thrashing about.

Somehow Jude crossed his mind.

"Damn it."

Focus.

Best to get this over with before he lost his erection altogether. He ran thumb against the tip and pulled, creating an enthusiastic response. He closed his eyes and felt the heat rising up his shaft. That, along with a slight massaging motion of his fingers against the foreskin was bringing him to the edge again. It didn't take long after that -- the sensation of pressure building in his groin was familiar, as was the push toward release. His orgasm was pleasant, actually more pleasant than he'd expected. He kept stroking until the last waves diminished, one hand curved over the glans to catch the ejaculate. He closed his eyes at the sensation of floating, endorphins flooding his system. He tried to clear his mind, to relax and enjoy it for what it was: a brief moment of physical pleasure. It was enjoyable; he'd give himself props for that-- but those few seconds of sensation left him wanting her even more leaving him exhausted for the several minutes of physical and mental effort, and honestly -- it was a ludicrous waste of time. It did nothing to clear his mind of her only fuel his desire. Sighing, he sat up and plucked a tissue from a box on a nearby table. He wiped his hand clean and then his penis for good measure, and crumpled it and dropped it to the floor. The sight of it would irritate him later but for right now, forget it.  He tugged his pajama bottoms back up and tied wound his duvet tightly around him.

Even with all of that. He still couldn't sleep. She was not there.

* * *

As he lay in the cooling sheets of his bed he thought. All elements and sequences were nothing but an unfortunate dream - unfortunate because that dream sparked an idea.

That all dreams can come true.  



	11. english hospitality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For TomsDom,  
> Because I'm pretty sure she would have started a petition.
> 
> Okay yeah, I suck because I haven't updated. But I have three chapters that I plan to post one by one two days separating them. I hope that makes sense. Just know you're getting a chapter Wednesday. And another late Friday or early Saturday. Right now we are just setting the scene with the first one, but the second you will probably want to shoot me but, by the time you get to the third, you'll want me to die a slow, painful death.

And just like a fine, modest, English gentleman would, he did.  
  
 Jude promised.  
  
 He promised to Alexis that he would keep her posted on the assessments of the board - to act as sieve of some nature to…maintain her. His job was to operate as a filter or cleanser to keep from making herself...worse. Uh, Shoddier.  
  
 She wasn't good. She wasn’t fine. She wasn’t okay. She wasn’t, in any way, well enough for people to lay their eyes upon her. To put her condition in southern vernacular:  
  
That woman was low sick.  
  
She knew that this moment would come. She knew that, eventually, certain, inopportune biological events would lead to her reversely arched back curved against a porcelain throne, emptying the already seldom contents of her stomach.  
  
"It's just...." Her words were interrupted by another jagged retch. "It's stress. I'll be fine in a couple of hours." She was addressing Jude who was on his knees behind her, kneading petite, compassionate circles on her spinal column. She was exact in her evaluation. Her condition spawned from tension that was unexpectedly not Benedict correlated. Not Ben but production stress that fashioned a migraine so viciously excruciating that it caused vile queasiness. The same horrid queasiness that led her here - with Jude, holding her hair, and Asher placed strategically outside of the place they were occupying. Only to barricade or refrain him from seeing his mother in her existing status of defect.  
  
"And that's exactly why you need to stay here. I promise that I will keep you informed on everything, pet. You have to stay here until you are better. We can't have you on the," he stopped temporarily letting his inner feelings transmit to her once he'd seen some of the breakfast pieces from earlier in a different, less attractive form. "on the road tomorrow night weak and poor."  She finished heaving, and after a few perturbed seconds, began again - except with no vomit spewing out from her chapped lips. Even with the constant gagging her nose stilled picked up Jude's smell. It wasn't making her sicker. It was helping her out considerably.  
  
Oak.  
  
"You're empty, Lex. Calm down. Calm down."  
  
She stopped to close her eyes and seize a further trace of his strong fragrance and when she was done glanced at him with hooded eyes.  
  
"Jude, you smell nice…”  
  
 “That’s certainly not peculiar for someone to say after vomiting.”  
  
 “You do though. Can you.."  
  
"Yes, I know." He started with an exaggerated flourish. She looked at him with a mystified expression.  
  
 "You need ginger ale, face towel, toothbrush, toothpaste, and for Asher not to see you because he will follow in your footsteps and be sick all day. I know you and have seen you throw up enough to know what you need after."  
  
She sniffed him again. "Am I supposed to proud?"  
  
He grabbed her off of the bathroom floor. In the process, she buried her head in the crook of his neck and inhaled. His pulse sped with her actions. Once he was sure she could stand on her own, he went out into the other room to move Asher and get her things before saying...  
  
"Proud? No. Grateful? Yes."  
  
Her weak laugh turned into a pained sigh. "Jude?" She called out to him as she walked into the bedroom, missing the soothing oak smell that engaged her dulled senses. "Yes?" Jude replied as he pushed Asher into the main room.  
  
"What's wrong with Mommy?" Asher said as he nibbled on a fiber one bar. Jude shook his head at the sight and pushed him again. "Nothing Little Prince. Go, go."  
  
"You should go. The board meets in thirty minutes." She croaked and plopped down on the bed.  
  
Jude came back into the room. With everything she needed.  "I'm the head chairman, second largest giver to you, and my name is Jude Law. I'm pretty sure I can be a little late." He unscrewed the top of the bottle of ginger ale for her and handed it to her.  
  
"Thank you. You're too good to me." She said as she took a long swig. Jude eyed her carefully, getting lost in the way her lips wrapped around the bottle.  
  
"Yeah" he said shakily. She turned her head.  
  
"Yeah, you're right. I have to go. Will you be alright?" He said as he stood up quickly.  
  
 She hummed, “I feel better already. I could still go with you."  
  
"No. You stay and relax. You've been stressing too much with the meetings and everything else that's been going on." He said as he bent down to brush his lips across her cheek. She inhaled to catch that oaky scent she so craved. She groaned as he lifted himself up away from her. He laughed at the sound escaping her.  "Oh, I'm going to put Asher to sleep and bring him in here with you." She smiled up at him as he placed her back into her plush bed and gave her an aspirin.  
  
"Thank you Dr. Law."  
  
"Anytime, Mrs. Dupree. Call me if you need anything. Okay?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
 She said as drowsiness overcame her person. Jude held her head tenderly as if he was holding an infant and gave her more of the ale. Watching intently as the liquid fell into her lips into the dark of her mouth. He closed his eyes briefly collecting his then scattered thoughts and breathed.  
  
She did not remember clearly whether the drink was cool at his actions or if his person was so warm that it made everything else around her so cold. She shivered and he promptly withdrew the bottle from her quivering lips.  
  
 She didn’t remember how the moments after passed -there was only her bed and Jude's familiar presence. And then she saw nothing.  
  
 Darkness, Jude's warmth, and his oaky scent - that was all.


	12. destiny

But when she opened her eyes, her senses were instantly heightened with urgency. Her movements and the original smooth melody they created together abruptly became staccato as she searched, in minuscule frenzy, for her phone. All the while wondering if Jude had called or texted. Her memory of him saying that she were to text him first drowning in the sound of the rhythmic thumping of her heart. It wasn't until she felt a body stir beside her and a broken sound escape that person's lips when she at last remembered and rested. Slowing her movements and making her melody a gentle piano as she ran her fingers across the soft cheek of her bedside company.  
  
"Hush my sweet boy."  
  
When he calmed, she did as well. She stretched her arms toward the sky like tall blades of grass, enjoying the warmth beating between her shoulders like Congo drums. She exhaled and inwardly thanked God for Jude and the fact that her sickness subsided. Stress melted away and joy took its place among the afternoon light streaming in from her bedroom window.  
  
She leaned back until her spine hit the headboard of the bed and with that she sighed blissfully at contrast of heat and cool. She grabbed her light pink purse from the bedside table. She reached into it and pulled out her cellular device and smiled at the picture on the lock screen. It was Asher with Rafferty, Iris, Rudy, and Sophia. They were in the spinning teacups at Disneyland waving at the camera. Smiling, she pressed her finger to the phone and moved the lock and typed in her pass code. She sent Jude a quick text message telling him that she was feeling a lot better and to fill her in on the assessments of the day. Upon hearing the whooshing sound of a delivered message she imagined sitting still and growing a pair of wings so that she could really be ‘fly’. She laughed at her thoughts and stood to make her way to the bathroom.  
  
In mid-sentence, Jude law looked down at his phone buzzing on the wooden table. He excused himself and walked out of the room.  
  
**They loved the name for the festival you suggested. Mo' Better New Orleans. :) They've approved the list of performances saying it was a perfect blend of new artists and well known ones from all genres. They voted you to announce them at the press conference next fall. -J**  
  
He typed, leaning his Armani clad back against the crown mold railing of the wall.  
  
Alexis looked at her phone in her lap and, after reading the message, breathed out a quiet, 'yes.'  
  
**Yay! I'm relieved. Did they approve City Park as the venue? -A**  
  
His typed reply was slower as he strolled back into the conference room.  
  
**No. They want it to be in Jackson Square. In front of the Cathedral. They are extremely excited. They want the press conference at the Superdome. -J**  
  
The Superdome? She sighed nervously. That would mean there would be lots of press.  
  
**Okay. I guess that would be good for advertisement. -A**  
  
He frowned, pushing the door open to go back into the room.  
  
**Doesn't seem like you're all that excited. -J**  
  
She bit her lip and he sat back down in his chair.  
  
**I am. I'm just nervous now. -A**

He smiled at the text message from his position at the head of the table in the conference room. All heads in the room were turned to him expectantly.  
  
"She loves it. She's just nervous about presenting."  
  
Every breath in the room sighed in relief and scattered words of happiness and contentment filled the space. They loved Alexis too much to see her stressed to the point of being sick and unable to attend meetings, feeling a bit helpless without her decisiveness. They were all friends of hers and Jude's. Most of them knew her when she was a child. When her father was working with them, managing their money and forming beautiful relationships in their wake. The others just knew her from other circuits. The Music for Tomorrow Foundation consisted mostly of older ladies and gentlemen with lots of money and a few scatter well known artist and actors here and there. Brad Pitt was one of the few.  
  
"I think that wraps it up. Wraps it all up, matter of fact. Thank you all for a wonderful and productive week. Have a safe trip back home! See you in three months for the press conference." Jude said to them, ending the meetings finally. Each member, after milling around the room for a bit, left happy with the results of the week. Success sitting on their shoulders. Jude, smiled at his blissful judgment, embracing them as his week, personally, had been full of melancholy and perplexity. He wanted to share his happiness with the persons he cared for.  
  
**No need to be. Were done! Now we can celebrate being in New Orleans like regular people. How about a night on the town? -J**  
  
Jude sent the text off and grinned. Thinking of her and wondering what she would say to his proposition. His eyes roamed around the conference room and landed on Brad’s figure walking toward him with an extensive smile. Jude opened his mouth to speak.  
  
"See you in three months, Brad. It was a pleasure seeing you again." He reached out to shake his hand - a business closing gesture. Brad had been a part of numerous reconstruction projects concerning the well-being of the city of New Orleans. He and Jude built some houses together and both were featured in a documentary a couple of years back. When Jude called Brad to work on the Music for Tomorrow Festival in 2006, Brad introduced a woman to Jude that ended up changing his life forever.  
  
"Mine as well." Brad said with a smile as he accepted his hand. “How are you and Alexis?” he said after releasing Jude’s hand.  
  
“She’s fine, we’re fine. So how is production on 12 Years going?" Jude inquired.  
  
"Great! I’m extremely excited about. We've got some talented actors and production is smooth sailing due to them. Have you had a chance to meet them back at the hotel?" he said plainly showing his fervor toward the film.  
  
Jude smiled.  
  
"Yes, I've met one."

* * *

  
  
  
She stood in the center of her bathroom, staring at her teeth as she brushed them, making awkward faces to cleanse them properly. She flipped her cell in her hand simultaneously, typing her next reply, timidly.  
  
Just us? -A  
  
After speaking to Brad for a period of time and declining his offer to come on set, Jude bade him farewell and texted Alexis back.  
  
Yes. -J  
  
When she didn't text back immediately, Jude knew she was going to say something she couldn't exactly put into one hundred and sixty characters. When his phone buzzed his suspicions were confirmed. He touched the 'answer call' button. He could hear her bustling around.  "I want too. But I haven't got a babysitter. Ben's still filming late into the night today." She slurred toothpaste still in her mouth.  
  
"I've got a babysitter." Jude said as he walked down the stairs of the office building. to go back to the hotel. His voice echoed in the stairwell like Alexis's thoughts.  
  
"You went on Angie's List? I still don't trust that site you know." She said into the sink, spitting out the minty paste.  
  
"No, I flew them in." Jude said quietly into the phone but loud enough for her to hear.  
  
 "Jude, what?" She said confused at his words after addressing the two arms hugging her thigh."Hey, mommy." Asher said looking up at her. She rubbed his head and he closed his eyes.  
  
"No questions.” Jude said, “ I need you to do exactly as I say." Jude said with signing his name on a receipt, cell in between his shoulder and ear, for an older woman who recognized him.  
  
Eventually, after the directives were dictated and the motive remained irrelevant, she did as asked.

* * *

  
  
Subsequent to the hassle of getting him to comply, Asher was finally cleaned and dressed in a Captain America shirt and striped shorts. His hair, wet, but curlier due to it. She ran her hands through them to fluff them out. He smiled widely and purred, instantaneously reminding his mother of Benedict and the noises she used to pull from him as she ran her fingers through his hair. Asher, sadly, was just like his father. As he got older it was as if Alexis was being forced to watch the highlights of her life when she was Ben’s, when her heart was in his grasp. She wasn’t always fond of her son for that very reason, her hatred at its peak during the first year of his life. He was just a bitter reminder then, nothing else.  
  
 Her eyes burned at the memory of loathing the very idea of her son. Such a horrible thing for a mother to do – hate the very thing you gave life to.  
  
 "Alright." She spoke, voice faintly flouting over the reverberation of knocking on her door. She turned her head towards it and began to pursue the noise. After looking through the peephole, she grunted as she opened the door.  
  
“Jude.” She said frowning dramatically before laughing, trying to mask the emotion in her voice. He didn’t acknowledge her, instead her only looked at her in the doorway of her room, eyeing her apprehensively.  
  
“Alexis?” he said upon seeing her eyes dampen through her mischievousness. She knew that he knew that something was wrong but, internally, he vaguely believed that she was still suffering from her previous condition. He stepped inside the room before asking her had she lied to him about being well.  
  
“I’m fine, really.” She said picking up Asher’s canvas bag with his essentials. Skeptically, Jude scratched the top of his head, mutely trying to dismember her with his eyes. He began to clench his jaw, all the while staring her down.  
  
“Did something happen while I was gone? Did Benedict…”  
  
“Oh, God no,” She said interrupting him, “Jude, I just had… a moment, that’s all.”  
  
“Oh,” Jude said quite lamely, before Asher ran from the bathroom, following the sounds coming from the neighboring bedroom. The boy smiled widely before squealing Jude’s name. Alexis rolled her shoulders and smiled at them.

As Jude gathered Asher into his arms he spoke, “When I text you, come downstairs.” He stopped. “ I can’t tell you much; I want it to be a surprise but, I will tell you that Asher will have some people to look after him while we are gone.” He crossed toward her to give her a quick kiss and registered the reaction on her face.  
  
“People?” she said with a challenging eyebrow.  
  
“The ‘no-questions’ rule still applies until further notice. Get dressed. Wear something smart…and sexy.” He said whispering the last part into her ear as he walked past her on his way to the door.  
  
She shook her head, running her hand through her hair.

 _That man._  
  
“Say bye to Mommy,” Jude said prompting Asher to speak.  
  
“Bye, bye Mommy.” He said waving as Jude opened the door to leave.

* * *

  
  
Benedict believed that it was destiny. He believed that somehow, certain predetermined events  took course and led him here. That, or the odds were in his favor, take your pick.

 But, it had to be destiny that allowed his dream from the night before to take place.  Destiny had granted him short filming because destiny permitted Steve to contract illness.   It must have been destiny that allowed traffic to be prolonged. that allowed his journey from the set to the hotel had been prolonged. And it had to be destiny that made Benedict drop his room key to floor.

Benedict bent down to grab the card from the floor, but when he lifted his head he saw her. Well he didn't see her face he saw her profile as she closed her door and turned her back to walk in the direction he just came from. Toward the elevators.

He quietly followed behind her, keeping a distance, watching her brown curled hair bounce lightly as she walked. She looked divine, her body adorned in a red, almost backless dress. The dress hugged her body seductively. He wondered where she was going, and why she didn't have Asher. Once she disappeared from his sight, rounding around the corner, he picked up his pace.  
  
She stood at the elevator, waiting patiently for the doors to open. After running her hands over her dress and fiddling in her purse the doors opened and she walked in. Just as the doors began to seal a sneaker blocked the progression from execution.  
  
"Hello," Benedict said breathlessly, stepping inside.  
  
Alexis turned around to the man blocking the lift and swallowed.

"Hey." She said precariously.  
  
It was destiny, it had to be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	13. an elevator overture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things before you start...
> 
> One, Excuse my three month hiatus.
> 
> Two, lets just say that it was Olivia instead of Katia... it'll explain itself in the chapter. (I changed it to fit the timeline a little better. No disrespect to any of the woman and I don't think Benedict would be all that keen on cheating any way so no disrespect to him either.)
> 
> Three, This chapter is very long and it was tedious to write... the continuity might be a little off but the format of this chapter is completely juxtaposed to the format of others. (The scenes flip back and forth from what's going on inside of the elevator and the things taking place outside.) It may not make complete sense, excuse me for that guys... I don't want to say anything else because I might give away some important details... I hope you all enjoy this craziness I wrote for you guys. I'm sure you'll want me to die after reading... 
> 
> *rubs hands together and laughs maniacally*
> 
> P.S. Does the cliffhanger count as a real cliffhanger? I tried. But I think it just made the chapter fall off, Oh well.. whatever.

And then there are moments like these when Alexis aspires to be a superhero, to have powers of some sort.  When she wishes that she could make a black hole appear out of voided space and will it swallow her entire being. A vacancy that would let her escape the world and situations that it would present to her. Moments like these, when she's rendered inert and her mind is so placid that she can't think of anything except, escape.  
  
Benedict 's eyes never left her as he placed himself in the elevator's clutch. Watching her moves intently as she never flinched from the center spot she held. She stared at him with a clenched jaw and squared shoulders. She was trying to play as if she was completely unfazed by his presence but, her eyes betrayed her inward emotions. Although swimming in small doses there was fear within their dark abyss and even then there was love.  
  
He walked to the right of her, closely stood behind her shoulder, and breathed his words in her ear.  
  
"What level?"  
  
After his words truly registered her mind, she stepped away from him. Trying to put as much distance between their bodies as possible in the scarce space of the lift. After placing her hands on the rail of the elevator, she exhaled.  
  
"First." She said, looking at her reflection in the mirrored cover of the lift. Her eyes stared back at her expectantly, wondering what would happen next.  
  
Ben placed his hands on the button and watched it light up. As he did this, he thought. Where was his preparation? What was he going to do? All of his time spent trying to master his plan to win her back in a simple conversation, gone.  
  
Gone with the mechanical whirring of gears and the small creaking of pressure applied by their collected weight.  
  
She lowered her gaze and licked her lips, instantly gaining Benedict's full capacity.  He eyed her carefully.... Admiring her figure adorned in a sea of red curving over her body enticingly. With his observations, he remembered how he could see her hips writhe in pleasure on those nights filled with lust.  
  
She could feel his blue-green eyes rolling across her skin. She keep her eyes down, trying not to look long at him as if he was the sun, but like the sun, she still could see him without even trying to.  
  
The metallic pang of the elevator as it reached the first level of the hotel caught Benedict and Alexis's attention, bringing their thoughts out of haze.  
  
She moved toward the door quickly as it opened, thankful of no longer sharing such a closeted area with her son's father. She successfully put one foot out of the door, breathing out a sigh that turned into a surprised yelp at the forcefulness of Benedict's following movements. He placed his hands on her forearm to pull her back in. And once the doors had closed for the second time that night, with an English man and a Southern Belle in its reservoir, he pressed the red 'Stop' button.  


* * *

  
  
After driving to the Louis Armstrong Airport and picking up his surprise package of babysitters, Jude, somehow, with the help of the eldest one, got everyone and everything settled enough to text Alexis and tell her to come downstairs.  
  
He, Asher, and "The Babysitters," rode back towards The W. with Jude talking animatedly, catching up on their lost time and apologizing for not flying them in sooner, and them not listening to a single word for they were caught up in the lights of the city called New Orleans.  
  
Once they got to the hotel, Jude took the car to the parking lot instead of valet, trying discretion for once in his life. After a couple of minutes dedicated to calming down their excitement, they stood in the lobby, drawing attention to themselves, especially the eyes of Michael Fassbender and Lupita N'yongo.  
  
Lupita brought the glass of wine to her burgundy lips to hide her avid interest in the man who played Watson. She whispered into her cup to get her co-star's attention, which was captivated by the bartender with the long legs.  
  
"Michael, Michael.... Isn't that Jude Law?"  
  
After being politely shot down by the woman named Theresa, he turned to his gawking company and sighed, "Where?"  
  
She tilted her head towards Jude. As Michael followed her movements, his eyebrows shot up as his gaze landed on the man in question.  
  
"Shit, it's him. I better say hello." He got up quickly before turning around to Lupita, "Do you want to meet him?"  
  
The woman pulled on her white trousers, anxiously.  
  
"I don't know, he doesn't know who I am. I shouldn't intrude."  
  
Michael grabbed her arm and dragged her from her position at the bar.  
  
"Come on woman!" Michael said with a shark-like smile.  
  
After gathering herself, she laughed while saying, "I should wait for Ben; he's upstairs getting his jacket. He'll be down soon."  
  
Michael didn't listen and dragged her towards an unsuspecting Jude Law.  


* * *

  
  
When the elevator complied to Benedict's command, he pinned her to the right wall, pressing his body flush upon her hers in effort to not let her get away. He hadn't meant for it to be so violent. He raised his palm in order to muffle her voice although she was quiet, eerily so.  
  
He shushed her anyway, "Alexis, darling. I need you to be quiet. Please don't scream when I move my hands. Don't scream. I just need to talk to you. And this would probably be the only chance I could say something to you... Alone."  
  
The metal handrail was digging into her backside with the pressure of Benedict's body against her own. She was limp against him and every time she blinked, he could see the love in her eyes being overtaken by pure, adulterated fear.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk. Do you understand?"  
  
She nodded her head and tried to calm her breathing. He knew she thought that he would do something terrible, especially the way his eyes were roaming over her skin before.  
  
"I'm going to move my hands now. Okay?" He said trying to show that he was afraid too.  
  
She nodded again. Once his hands disappeared from her mouth she remained quiet and she didn't move. He'd began to step away from her and when he was at the proper distance the fear in those eyes and the scarce remainder of love within them was shrouded completely by anger.  
  
"What the hell is wrong with you Benedict! Are you fucking crazy? God, man..."  
  
He held his hands to his sides and shifted his weight from foot to foot unable to apologize for his maniacal behavior. She raised her voice at his muteness. "You've got me in here! You said you wanted to talk. Now talk..." She said, feeling her father's monstrous side grow within her. After a second of silence, when Benedict hadn't spoken, she became incredibly impatient. "Speak!" She said.  


* * *

  
  
Jude Law looked up from his position on the floor of The W. tying a shoe on a toddler to see two people walk toward him with smiles plastered on their faces. A man and a woman. He noticed the man first. He’d spoken loudly to gain his attention.  
  
"Jude Fucking Law!" Michael Fassbender said with outstretched arms.  
  
"Michael Fassbender! Don't you see children here?" Jude Law said before getting up from his crouched state and aggressively hugging the thespian whom was laughing in embarrassment.  
  
"Sorry man! I didn't see. Goodness it's been ages." Michael said while running his hands through his red hair, Irish lilt hanging in the air.  
  
Jude laughed heartily while agreeing before his eyes caught the woman behind his friend. He had seen her before but he couldn't place her name.  
  
"And who is this beautiful creature behind you?"  
  
Lupita smiled before telling Jude her name nervously. She felt incredibly irrelevant to the conversation.  
  
"We worked together, but I was a production assistant. You probably don't remember me. We crossed paths once." She held out her hand to shake his.  
  
Jude smiled, "No sorry," he lifted her palm to his lips and placed a quick kiss to it, "I'm afraid I don't recall."  
  
Lupita blushed and shrugged, "Figured that."  
  
Michael smiled at his old friend's audacity, "But, Jude...." He gestured to his co-star, "Lupita plays a very important role in 12 years."  
  
Jude smiled, "I know, she plays Patsy." He watched her eyes light up. "I looked at the cast list when it first came out."  
  
Lupita was taken aback at his words, “Really! You knew. Wow." Lupita said instantly regretting speaking for she felt like a teenage girl, "I'm sorry; I'm just a little surprised that you remembered."  
  
They stood around, indulging in the company before them, time wasting away amongst the laughter and the stars until Asher asked about the whereabouts of his mother. Jude laughed before worrying, it had been a while since she texted or called.  
  
Michael stared at the little boy who spoke with an accent that wasn't English but American, and southern at that. Lupita noticed Michael's deductive stare and spoke to the child to keep the older gentleman from making a fool out of himself.  
  
"Hello young man! How are you?" She said squatting down to his height.  
  
"I'm good." He said nonchalantly before adding, quite plainly, "I think you're pretty." She noticed the southern twang as Michael did and laughed at his comment before kissing him on the cheek and saying thank you. She asked Jude discreetly where his mother was by saying that she had to meet whoever the parents of this child for he was because he was just too precious. Jude rose an eyebrow, thinking, she already has met one of them.

If only that were enough.  
  
Jude furrowed his brows and spoke, "Uhmm, her name is Alexis. She and I are chairmen for the foundation that is hosting the festival in a couple of months. She's a friend," he paused to drag out the next part of his sentence, "And I'm afraid that she hasn't texted me back, we're due for our reservation in an hour."  
  
Lupita and Michael looked at each other and as the woman rose from her position, Michael spoke, "Yeah, we're waiting for our co-star and I haven't heard back from him either. Have you heard anything from him Lu?"  
  
She nodded her head negatively. "No I'm afraid not. I'm getting kind of worried; he said he was just getting his jacket."  
  
Jude shook his head, "I think I might head up to check on her."  
  
Michael and Lupita spoke in unison, "We should too."  


* * *

  
  
The anger and spite that filled her voice frightened him slightly. "I love you Alexis." Benedict said stepping toward her again. He didn't know how else to put it. He guessed that he should start off with that. Upon seeing her tilt her head back, roll her eyes and groan, he could tell that either she didn't care or she didn't believe it.  
  
She spoke loudly. "What! So you love me now? Well it's too late..." He stopped her to remind her that people could hear from outside. She hissed at him before whispering,"Too late for that shit." A rage animated her body, taking over her from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes.  
  
"Alexis you don't understand," he said calmly. She interrupted him with a whispering voice full of spite.  
  
"What don't I understand? You decided that you didn't love a long damn time ago." Even though her voice was strong, it broke with emotion and her eyes watered with tears.  
  
"Would you like me to tell you what happened that day with Olivia?" Benedict said getting a little frustrated with her non-cooperation.  
  
"No, Benedict and frankly I just don't fucking care anymore." She said with both hands placed on her forehead. "Look," she said quietly. "I know what happened between you two. I knew that when we first got together you still loved her. But I thought that the love you had for her was respect not...” She paced around the space of the lift, shaking with the emotion filling her.  
  
"It was respect, darling. She had no clue that we were together. The only people that _did_ know were our parents. She thought that I was still single and we just... Saw each other on the street, got to talking, and...." He repeated the word 'and' multiple times. "You were already at dinner with your parents when I left her."  
  
Alexis looked at him for an extended period of time, sobbed, and sat on the floor of the elevator. "God, Benedict."

 _The_ dinner.  
  
The words flooded out of his mouth as if they were poison. "We both regretted it as soon as we finished. I was going to tell you but then I saw you with your parents at dinner and that's when we...” He stopped to kneel on both knees in front of her. She was crying. Her mascara ran down her cheeks obscuring her makeup. He looked at her as a man looks at a faded flower he has gathered, with difficulty in recognizing the beauty for which he picked and ruined it.  


She spoke, "That was the dinner where we told my parents that I was officially moving in with you."  
  
He started clawing at his hair. Hot tears ran down his face and he sunk into himself. Realizing truly how that must have sounded to her. He just said, "Yes." Because he remembered what happened after the food was finished.  
  
"Benedict," she said with a face full of shock and anger and remorse. He looked up at her with pleading eyes of forgiveness. "That was the last time we had sex." She said quietly. No anger or sadness in her voice. She said it like the words were a prayer against her lip.  
  
He inhaled and tried to speak steadily, “You were so riled up after dinner and you looked so happy and so beautiful and I... I couldn't resist myself. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."  
  
She didn't look at him, neither did she speak; she only covered her mouth and closed her eyes.  


* * *

  
Jude Law, Michael Fassbender, Lupita N'yongo, Asher Dupree, and the babysitters made their way to the elevators chatting excitedly toward one another. Lupita had taken quite a shine towards Jude's friend's son. They talked back and forth. Lupita was amused at the way he spoke and his views of the world as a child were quite unlike anything she had ever heard before.  
  
Jude kept a close eye on Asher as he spoke to Lupita, anxiety taking over him in hope that the child won't say anything about Benedict or Alexis.  
  
Although conversing with Jude distractedly, Michael Fassbender pondered the mysteriously unaddressed issue of the fatherless child. Almost immediately, he falsely surmised that Jude was the father to the young boy but, after a moment of physical appraisal from both men he concluded that they looked nothing alike. Jude's eyes weren't as large as Asher's, his hair wasn't curly like the boys, his cheekbones weren't nearly as sharp as Asher's, and the little boy definitely didn't have an English accent like Jude. Michael remembered Jude's children, and found them all to have a certain aura that said, 'Jude Law is my father!" That trait didn't exactly emulate from Asher's person.  Asher wasn't overly aware of the impact of his presence on those around him. Michael thought the child to be peculiar, and unlike Jude's children, not obviously beautiful. Asher's beauty was ethereal and oddly appeasing. His cheekbones gave him the likening of a Greek statue. His swagger was simple for a child but Michael could tell that when he would grow older, women would fall at his feet. There was familiarity within him. Asher's presence reminded him of someone he'd come in contact with. A man with the exact same ethereal beauty and oddly appeasing countenance. Asher was like somebody he knew. But he couldn't quite place it.  
  
Conversations had become slow and quiet in a comfortable manner. Michael kept thinking, Lupita kept smiling at the little boy, and Jude had diverted his attention to corralling the Babysitters and keeping a careful eye on Asher.  
  
"When is the festival?" Michael said as they walked.  
  
"It's next in September of next year." He replied distractedly. "I wanted it to be in June of next year but if the weather is like it is now,"  
  
"You wanted to shoot for something cooler." Lupita added with a laugh. "Good choice, where we are filming, I practically am melting from the sun. The makeup people thought that they were going to have to add water to my face to make it seem like I was sweating. No, I did that all on my own." They laughed together at her comment. She was the first to reach the elevator and she pressed the up button. But it didn't light up.  
  
She tilted her head in confusion. "It not working guys." She said as she pressed it repeatedly. Michael moved to where she was and pressed it. "It's not working." He said.  
  
"I just said that." Lupita said and Michael rolled his eyes before speaking again.  
  
"I'll go to the front desk to see what's going on." Michael spoke in a joking manner as he walked away, "Maybe Ben is stuck in there.”  


* * *

  
  
Benedict Cumberbatch looked at the weeping woman drawing further within herself. Her hair fell out if it's carefully crafted ponytail and cascaded in waves against her shoulders. Her arms were wrapped around her body as if she was trying to console herself. Her heels, long forgotten beside her folded legs. In watching her, Benedict loathed himself more so than ever before. He couldn't bear the fact that he had brought them to this. This very horrible situation.  
  
"Alexis," he said. Trying to coax her out of the darkness he himself had brought upon her and to his surprise, she complied.  
  
It was the way he said her name. Like all the times he said it after they would argue. Like it was another way of saying, "I surrender." She had to look at him because the way he said her name said to her that he couldn't go on like this any longer. He surrendered to her choice of never loving him again. But she knew he wouldn't end without a fight.  
  
"I know you don't think I love you. I had even told you I didn't. But I do." She stared at him blankly as he spoke. "I never stopped and I also know that you already knew that. And I know that beneath all of the scorn and spite, you have some feeling towards me." He moved closer toward her, itching to touch her as he spoke. "All I ask of you is to try to love me the way you did before." He didn't realize how close he was to her until she breathed. Her breath tickled the hair beneath his nose. At the conclusion of her exhale, she spoke.  
  
"How could you expect me to do that Benedict? Especially now." She whispered but didn't move. Benedict's hand left it's place from his pocket and found its way to her cheek to wipe away a grey tear. He shivered at touching her skin and so did she. A small moan escaped his lips and the feel of her warmth underneath his fingertips. Every memory of touching her flooding back to him.  
  
"How could you expect me to try to love you again?"  
  
He pulled her face toward his and spoke.  
  
"You've never judged a man on one thing he's done wrong because you remember all the things he's done right." Once his face was mere centimeters away from hers he whispered to her mouth, "And, you're trying right now."  
  
Alexis was only able to stare at him as she lost herself in Benedict's words. Her shaking hand crept around the back of his neck and pulled his head down with gentle yet firm pressure. Their lips touched lightly, pressed against each other before opening into a thin line, and when their tongues touched for the first time, Benedict felt warmth spread throughout his whole body. He moaned unconsciously and opened his mouth a little further. She kept repeating the words "You broke me." between kisses. Even though she knew that it was wrong, she didn't stop kissing him. She lost herself in the taste of him. It had been so very long since the seemingly natural sweetness of tobacco and mint of his welcoming mouth burst on her tongue. She explored every hidden place in his mouth with eagerness. Benedict remembered what that devious tongue had been capable of doing to other parts of his anatomy and clung even closer to Alexis.

And then with the help of an elevator maintenance man, the doors opened to reveal Benedict with his hands in Alexis's hair, and her hands plastered across his torso and Jude, well, he saw them first.


	14. the events that followed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I should have told you of my hiatus. But's it over now and I am very glad to continue writing. Forgive the continuity I am quite 'dusty' if you will. I would like to thank a very dear friend of mine for helping me edit my work. (That's what quiants are for.) That's a very bad inside joke we have. But that's enough with the formalities... 
> 
> Congratulations to Benedict on his engagement and becoming a father in real life.
> 
> Now for the story. (This is not real life.) Enjoy!

If nothing else was true in that moment, one thing was sure of all. Less than world-renowned maintenance man, Marian Brasseaux, was even less than intrigued by the identities of the pair taking the elevator. He knew of two things. One, the pair displaying such a heightened amount of PDA could have easily been a little more discreet in their expressions of love. And two, if anything, he had to get back to his closet of an office to watch The Andy Griffith Show on his television. With that, his mind was made and he came to a conclusion that this conflict would be resolved swiftly.

As he scrutinized the offending peoples with a grey-eyed stare, his weathered hands, darkened and aged from the ash of heavy labor, brushed over his torso; when they landed quite gracefully on his tool belt, he spoke. Cajun accent dripping heavily from his tongue, "Now, now. This is no well way of actin' in public. You two lu'v birds are di'ruptin the processes of my building." He stopped momentarily to ruffle his silver strands of hair with his beloved baseball cap. "People have places to go and people to see and God didn't make enough air for us all to be selfish." He practically sighed. "M'kay?" With his last words, he turned to tip his hat to Jude and the company behind him. And after a swift 'Good day,' he walked away in search of a television remote. 

As the last of his words slipped from his mouth, Alexis Dupree and Benedict Cumberbatch stepped quickly out of the lift into the main level of The W. Hotel. Their heads aimed downwards with the shame of two teenagers caught groping one another in the backseat of a car. If only it had been as simple.

"I'm sorry." We're the words to shoot a dark hole into that silent abyss. Alexis had uttered them softly while staring at the small gathering of people in front of her. She observed their silence in agony. She watched the disappointment materialize in the eyes of Rafferty. She could register the shock of realization in the face of Iris. She could feel the confusion of Rudy. And she envied the innocent contentment of Sophia.

Jude's children.

"The babysitters," Jude answered tiredly for her, gesturing towards them. "For Little Prince." He stepped backwards slowly as he spoke, rubbing his brow in growing frustration.

Asher had chosen that particular time to introduce Lupita N'yongo to his mother and father. "Mommy." He indicated with an obscure point toward the woman in the blood red dress. She stared at him in horror with his following words. "And Daddy." Lupita chuckled nervously as he flicked his wrist to Benedict before walking to stand between his parents. Just enough to let Michael Fassbender get a good side by side comparison.

The man and woman eyed their co-star carefully, not wishing to speak.

And then there was a lightbulb.

"Oh, damn." Michael groaned before scratching at his red beard.

By that time they had started to draw attention to themselves by an older couple at the bar area. Only a few seconds before Rafferty gave them a threatening stare. They quickly resorted to chattering amongst themselves. Drinking bourbon and indulging in one another's company.

"Best not make a scene here." Rafferty said quickly, gathering his baby sister into his arms. He didn't want his younger siblings to stay around for what was to follow. He ruffled Sophia hair and she practically purred.

"Yes," interjected Iris, "Dad wanted us to babysit Asher while he took Lex to dinner." She said to no one in particular as she took Asher's arm.

After a moment of uneasy silence, Jude grabbed Alexis by her hand to direct this circumstance to a more private setting. Provoking her to totter awkwardly on her heels. Normally, she would have argued at his forcefulness, but she was too embarrassed to speak. She watched Lupita press the button for the elevator, urging the children go up. They obeyed with trepidation, sending emotional glances to those left on the first floor. Alexis caught Iris's and Rafferty's eyes and mouthed her forgiveness as she was being escorted away.

Once they were safely away from prying eyes, Jude stared at the woman in his arms before he spoke, He noticed for the first time that she had grown pale and emaciated in the time since they had first met. He barely saw any trace of the passionate beauty that he had so lusted over all those years ago. The decades of shame showed like a biography written across her face, in the bags under her eyes and the lines on her forehead. The pout she’d always worn, which he had initially found so arresting, had now burned itself into her mouth, and he could only muster up enough emotion take pity and yet have callous indifference. "Are you staying here with him?" Leaving her eyes briefly to pierce Benedict with a brutal gaze. He gripped her a bit tighter in agitation at her slow speech.

At the sight of Jude’s hands enveloping Alexis’s, clenching them absurdly as he spoke, Benedict raised his voice. "Let her go," he said stepping towards Jude with a tightened jaw and darkened eyes.

"No, Jude." Alexis said, dipping her head into her shoulders, "I want..” she stuttered causing Jude to raise an eyebrow at her tone, “I want to go with you." She nodded feverishly to assure him. Jude sighed and brushed a strand of her fallen hair away from her pinkened face.

"You're belittling her." Benedict said stepping even closer to the pair in front of him. He furrowed his brow at Alexis’s silence. Truthfully, she was too shocked at the scene playing in front of her to form words. Her face was that of woe. She avoided his eyes solemnly.

At Benedict's words, Jude's head snapped up with displeasure. "No, Mr. Cumberbatch, I am antagonizing you. How could you play off of her weary emotions and take advantage of her fragility." He said, baring his teeth. "If anyone is belittling her, it is you." With the word 'you' Jude poked at Benedict's chest in warning, causing him to stumble a bit at his feet.

Benedict's temper flared with Jude's action. He lunged at him before Michael's arms stopped him. He pushed him toward the wall with a thud. At the noise, Lupita shrieked before covering her mouth.

"We have to go." Jude scoffed, looking at Benedict struggle under Michael 's body.

Jude walked toward the hotel door with his hand on Alexis's back. She hardly kept up with his brisk pace, breath leaving her body in gasps as Ben's voiced yelled after them. His face contorted in an all - consuming anger; his nostrils flaring, eyes flashing and closing into slits, mouth quivering and drooling, slurring words that were unintelligible came spewing into space like a volcano releasing its pent up emotions into the darkness. 

"You don't know what she wants! You cannot.. " He called out, still being restrained by the weight of Michael, “possibly believe that you are right for her? You… playboy.” he spat, voice breaking with despair.  
Jude had turned back to face Ben, he truly enjoyed watching him struggle to get to him. The pure, unadulterated struggle forming behind his eyes. He spoke in a whisper loud enough for the words to reach Benedict’s ears, “And you can’t possibly believe that you are right for her? You playboy.” Benedict growled at the sight of Jude’s back turning away from him. 

The rhythmic click of heels as they echoed across marble floors, drunken cheers rang out at the bar, and the clinking of half empty wine glasses amplified their deafening cracks between walls and doors as they receded into the night. They were terrible sounds. Sounds of life and sounds of happiness. 

They only reminded Benedict that he was left alone, yet again.


	15. jude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's been six months I believe. Or more. And I know that wasn't smart considering the dwindling readership. Yes, I am incorrigible. And yes, I changed the name of the book.... I didn't want to be sued. *wink wink* leave your questions (or beratements? Yep. Beratements is a new word.) in the comment section. I missed you guys. Life is insane. 
> 
> My goodness I'm very nervous about this now. It's been a while. Ah whatever. Forgive any typos. Let me know so I can fix em' 
> 
> Ta!

Jude Law had long leaned back in that wooden chair. He closed his eyes gloomily while indulging in the absent sounds of Galatoire. The soundlessness of the restaurant a direct juxtaposition to the rowdiness of the French Quarter. His hands, the only part of his figure to be putting in any exertion,were busy tracing out the lettering of the menu. He read and read, letting the entrees appeal to his rising appetite, never fully able to decide on what he wanted. His person, seemingly the epitome of calm and collect was fiction and never more so. Jude 's mind was racing with a range of emotion. His brain was practically a tornado swirling uncontrollably with anger, confusion, but most of all... Disappointment. The woman... who had yet to speak, shielded herself from his scrutinizing presence. He wanted her to initiate conversation and at her irritating silence he spat out his first words of the night.

"You could at least wipe that smudge of lipstick off your face." He said while snatching the lone bottle of wine from the table to uncork his bittersweet, rouge pleasure. They had already eaten, and it was still there on her face. The whole ride over it was practically a third passenger in the car with them. A crude red smudge reminding him that only three hours before, those lips that he loved so very much were plastered across one Benedict Cumberbatch. 

She only blinked repeatedly in shame at the venomous speech. The words, a stab in her heart. And after recovering from that blow she grabbed the napkin to dab at her face. The red smeared roughly across the white of her handkerchief resembled blood.

In all honesty, the moment they had stepped out of the hotel, Alexis knew that their night would become this horror show. She had spent the entire drive over trying to orchestrate words valid enough to convey her… Was it guilt? Does she feel guilt or remorse? She really doesn’t know. The only thing on her mind is Jude and the way he’s looking… er, or rather not looking at her.

She reached across the table to cover Jude's hand with her own. Trying and failing to comfort him. And when her skin brushed his, he quickly flinched. At his action, she let out a slow heavy breath.

"I didn't want that to happen." She said finally. Letting her words flutter above the small jazz playing in the background. Their waiter, Rutherford, was not oblivious to the tension in the room; as soon as they walked in he could tell that this romantic setting was obstructed by... something not romantic. The way Jude carried himself through the threshold with a silent Alexis by his side was enough for him to understand that maybe he shouldn’t be the best waiter and constantly check in on them. He thought it best to leave them to themselves after he had done his job as their server. 

"We are having dinner." Jude said quickly, snatching his hand coldly from her grasp. "I made a reservation for this dinner." He stated, not wavering at the woman’s hurt countenance. "I flew my children in to watch your child as we have dinner." He said pulling his napkin from the table. "We,” he paused to fold said napkin. “are having dinner." When Alexis widened her eyes and showed him the bottom row of her teeth, he continued.

“You do know dinner, right?” he questioned her in a menacing whisper, pulling his chair up to get a better view of her face. “Well, let me see. Dinner is where two or more people sit and eat food and maybe have a little something to drink over pleasant conversation. ” 

“I am trying to have a conversation with you.” Alexis interjected, growing angry at his spiteful words.

“Pleasant conversation!” Jude screamed slamming one hand over the table, causing his wine glass to land on to the floor. It had broken; the shards twinkled against the dark wood of the floor. The noise prompted Rutherford to come into their space with a broom. Jude had gotten down on his hands and knees picking up the bigger pieces while Rutherford swept the smaller ones away. Jude muttered his apologies to him claiming that he got a little too excited. After he had gotten back into his seat, Alexis spoke.

"Jude." she said simply looking at him squarely before continuing. "I understand that you are disappointed in me. I understand why you are angry. But please, have the decency not to antagonize me further."

Both Jude and Alexis exhaled the breath they had been holding since the events that transpired at the hotel. Jude had planned for everything to go so differently. He had everything planned. Alexis was supposed to be surprised with his children coming to babysit Asher while they were out. All of them were supposed to this little place outside of New Orleans to spend a week just together. Like Jude wanted them to be. It was not supposed to end up like this. Not at all.

Jude spoke first. "The trust between us,” he gestured between them, “it allows for truths does it not? And when I ask you this question” he coughed weakly, “I promise I will only ask it once." He said while raising his hands in mock defeat. He hoped her answer wouldn't be one to burden his disappointment even further. 

"Are you in love with that bastard?"

She didn't speak right away. Maybe her mind was still clouded by the remembrance of Benedict’s kiss. His tongue plundering between her lips leaving a burning trail of tobacco, mint, coffee in its midst. That so very familiar taste and lord knows that taste was bittersweet.

"You say you want the truth?" She said lowly, breathing in a long breath of finality.

"God's honest truth..." He said while brushing stray locks away from his face.

"The truth…it’s complicated."

"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."

"Oscar Wilde." They said in unison prompting a Jude to upturn his lips. His hands clasped hers and gently ran his thumbs across the backs of her hands. He dropped his voice so low that Alexis couldn’t tell if he was talking to her or to himself. 

“You’ve never judged me.” He went on. “I know I’m not a perfect man and I know that I have more than enough bad marks behind me to make everyone else walk away. But, you’ve never judged me. Even with my…” he sighed and then Alexis looked at him, really looked at him. The way he closed his eyes as if he had been in pain and she saw how thin his eyelids were, like frosted glass, and how tired he looked. “You always have looked past my faults.” He whispered. “Not even he can take that from me.”

And without knowing it, Jude had inadvertently told Alexis he loved her. And she heard him this time, she really did.

When his eyes registered the look on her face he spoke quickly as though he needed to cover up his tracks. “Never mind, it’s complicated.” He said echoing her words from earlier.

“And how long has it been complicated?”

“I can’t remember.” He said unfolding and folding his napkin into a tight square. “I don’t think it matters that much now anyways.” He pushed back his chair and began to stand up. 

She was dumbfounded. 

“Jude.” She said, watching him leave a generous tip on the table before throwing his jacket over his shoulders. As he stood, he released a painful sigh, gathering himself before walking towards the door. His legs had taken four long strides before he turned to speak to the constant voicing of his name. 

"Look," he said amongst the drunken jeering of men in the French Quarter, "Today has been host to a myriad of emotions." He said, the neon lights around gave him an ethereal look. The way they shined upon his pale figure made him seem like he was the only person there. "I’m tired," he turned to walk toward the hotel, "and I need to think of a sufficient way apologize to my children for my behavior tonight." 

He reached into his pocket to produce his car keys. 

"I'll find my own way back to the hotel."

And with that, Alexis watched Jude's legs carry him further and further away from her.


	16. at midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a long while, but hopefully this will make up for it. Only five left til the end guys! Hopefully, this will all be over by July. That's roughly a chapter a month and I think I can make it. This one as well as future chapters is a bit wordy but its time to wrap it up.. As always, comment and kudos!  
> Enjoy.

In the midst of all the madness there was Michael Fassbender and Lupita N’yongo. Two people who Benedict Cumberbatch supposed he owed an explanation. 

"If you don't owe it to Lupita,” the red-headed thespian said while pacing back and forth across the living space of the hotel room, “you owe it to me..." Michael clutched the collar of his own shirt for emphasis "I almost lost a fucking eyeball over it." He finished with an unnecessary clap of his hands causing a certain British man to jump at the sound.  
"Now, now, now,” Michael continued, “don't you dare think for one minute that what you pulled back there was even remotely close to a romantic grand gesture? God forbid fucking smart!" he finished with a violent flourish.  
"And don't you go and have a heart attack over it either, Michael. I believe that’s quite enough." Lupita quipped at his unrelenting anger. She stood briefly to put her hands on his shoulders to sit him down beside Benedict on the grey sofa of her hotel room.  
Upon seeing Michael wriggle himself away from Benedict side, she spoke. "We must be rational about this.” She said to both men, who resembled fretting kindergartners. “Love makes you do insane things at times and Benedict did what he thought his heart told him to do." 

They both had haphazardly escorted him to Lupita's room, which was the closest in vicinity. Anything to keep him from further causing a scene. They had spent the last thirty minutes bombarding him with questions. His own personal interrogation, which he gladly obliged in answering. Benedict trusted them to not speak of it outside this hotel room. In all truth, not lying about his situation and letting the burden of three years of silence come out of his mouths felt so very good to him. It was heartening to share his tale of woe with someone other than that of his parents. 

Although what followed seemed unfortunately similar to his conversation with them. 

"His heart!" Michael scoffed. "Damn his heart. The man wasn't thinking with his brain, Lupita." Michael was most definitely Wanda in this circumstance. 

He turned his body towards Benedict in order to let his words truly wash upon him. "That was immensely more public than it needed to be, Benedict and you know it was. Fighting with Jude Law..." He paused to wipe at his mouth. "Oh mate, imagine if one person were to see that besides us. One!" He held up a finger to indicate. "The bloody tabloids would eat you, Jude, and Alexis alive. Benedict Cumberbatch and Jude Law quarrel over nameless woman in New Orleans hotel!" the volume of his voice growing with every passing word.

"Give it a rest, Michael." Lupita interjected at seeing her co-star wince under Michael's undying stare. 

"No, he needs to know if he doesn't already."

There was uneasy silence for a while. 

"But it's true Benedict." Lupita said quietly, looking at him with his head between his knees. "The press would have had a field day. They would have eventually…found Alexis's identity and realized how much that little boy looks like you." 

And just like that Michael Fassbender and Lupita N'yongo were added to Benedict Cumberbatch's never ending melodrama. 

Benedict lifted his head toward a standing Lupita then shifted his gaze to Michael.

"When that elevator opened, and she saw his face..." Benedict said shaking his head with the memory. "She looked like she looked the day she found out I slept with Olivia. Like she had made a mistake in falling in love with me… in kissing me back." He said touching his lips with a furrowed brow. "She looked as if she were disgracing herself in his presence. The moment that I thought that she could have been in love with me again, she was just snatched out of my hands." 

He scoffed, "That wanker."

 

 

When his eyes gauged his surroundings Jude Law realized that he had stopped in front of Saint Louis Cathedral. The building stood on the outer skirts of the French Quarter, a structure rapt as raised arms. The form mounted in such eloquent steps that the building did not seem stationary, but moving upward in a continuous flow--until Jude realized that it was only the movement of his own glance and that his glance was forced to move in that particular rhythm. The walls of pale gray limestone looked silver against the dark and misty sky. It made the church alive in a strange, personal way of its own, so much so that in the minds of spectators five words ran dimly, without object or clear connection "...in His image and likeness..."

He heard a low note from a saxophone played by a man sitting on the steps of that church. As Jude stepped closer to the man in inspection, he threw some money into the unnamed musician's saxophone case. His tune abruptly ceased to bless the ears of his listeners as he peaked from underneath the brim of his straw hat. Jude noted that it was an odd combination, a man with a straw hat and a saxophone playing such sweet jazz on the steps of a cathedral. 

"I don't play for money. It’s just something to get me out of the house every once in a while." He said removing his lips from his golden instrument in a voice as rich as his sax. Jude smiled crookedly before lowering himself to reach for his money and once it grazed his fingers a sweet melody continued. 

"Shame. You could make a hell of a profit." Jude's words made the man smile as if he had reminded him of days long past. 

"Jazz is a dying genre. I'm just a man who revives it on the weekends." He said before planting his lips atop his golden instrument. Jude relaxed himself in the warmness of the notes flying out of the saxophone giving him a split second of ease before becoming who he was were before their encounter. Jude was the first to walk away, mumbling something about boring the musician to death. 

If the man hadn't truly had Jude's attention, he practically owned him by then with his next words. 

"She has your heart."

His words were so quickly out of his mouth the listener would have barely picked up on them for he had started another song. "What did you say?" 

"It's the name of the piece." The older man said, laughing a bit at how confused the actor's face was. He continued, "Now that you know the name of the song, might I ask yours?" 

He hesitated for a moment before speaking, "David." 

It was hardly a lie. 

"François." He said while taking the reed from his instrument between his fingers. He began to break down the sax in front of Jude. 

"Englishman?" He smiled to himself, “Seen a couple of you guys this week." 

"There's a tea and biscuit convention." Jude said while easing himself back down on the steps. From his position he looked at the man next to him taking off his hat. 

Francois had a curled mess of grey-white hair around his scalp. He had a nice face, not explicitly handsome as he would have been back in his heyday. It was a face that was chiseled with time and world weary. Yet his body was sturdy and he carried himself with bond-like pride. And when he spoke, his voice commanded you to know who was speaking. Looking back to the older man's face, Jude saw a scar that ran from the outer corner of his eye to the succession of his cheek. As he reached down to a velvet bag to put away his instrument, Jude noticed Francois' arm had the faint scarring of what looked like old fire burns. 

"Looking at my battle scars, Jude?"  
"No. Y-Yes," he stuttered. "Wait," he grinned, "you just called me Jude."  
Francois chuckled slightly, fiddling with the buttons of his jean shirt. "I know I look it, but I wasn't exactly born yesterday." He stood with his saxophone case. "You're my husband's favorite actor. You mind passing me my hat?"  
"My pleasure." Jude said standing up with the straw hat between his fingers. Jude found himself following behind Francois even after he handed the hat to him.  
"You got a way back? I would drive you if you need it. The house is around the corner." He said after a few paces.  
"I don't mean to intrude. I know I must seem a bit creepy." Jude said turning a bit pink.  
"No, you wouldn't be intruding." He said looking up at the stars of the night, “If anything Richard would be pleased to meet you."

Richard was a lithe man who resembled Cary Grant in the most mysterious of ways. With hair brown from dye and a grey mustache that fell past his lips to form a beard he certainly could rival him in Cary’s prime. His appearance implied, at maximum, forty to fifty years on this earth, but after Jude was granted the knowledge of his true age, his blue eyes widened.  
“Sixty-three years old! Good lord,” Jude spluttered, “have you been feasting on the blood of the innocent?” Jude said, smiling at the man pouring a glass of sweet tea before him.  
“I feel ninety.” Richard Dubois-Lawrence spoke with certain weariness standing next to his partner who interjected with gratitude for his drink. “Ah, you don’t look it, honey.” François continued, gripping the other man’s hand in his own and placing a quick kiss atop of it. Richard pulled away playfully as he spoke. “You’re the spring chicken in this house.”  
François almost choked on his drink, “I’m damn near fifty-five!”  
“Aint no damn near fifty- five you are fifty-five. Like I said,” he drank out of his own cup and spat out a rather comical “you’re a spring chicken.” 

Jude learned of their past. They met in 1984, after François’s first marriage to his best friend, Renee. She died after giving birth to their first child two years prior, a girl by the name of Shannon. She was a realtor based in Los Angeles with twin baby girls and a husband who was active duty military. She considered Richard as her other father for he had been in her life since birth. Jude listened intently but was drawn to the burns marks on François’s arm again. Richard had been touching that same area since he sat down.

“Forgive me for asking you this, but how did you come across those burns on your arms?” Jude said looking a bit sheepish. 

“To make a long story short,” Richard spoke while shaking his head. “Let’s just say that being a gay, saxophone player in the south comes with some perks.”

Jude stood to inspect the photographs plastered across the room and there was polite chatter amongst the three of them. Then François said something that gathered Jude’s attention for the second time that night.  
“She has your heart is not a real song, Mr. Law.”  
Jude turned around from staring at a picture. It was of the two men with their twin granddaughters, both in matching yellow dresses. When Jude had completely faced them he recognized that even Richard was confused at François’s exclamation.  
“In truth, I saw you before you came to the steps of the cathedral,” He paused to stand closer to Jude. “The restaurant you went to is in the direct sight of the church.” He furrowed his brows in confusion. “When you first went in, you were practically dragging a woman helpless beside you and when you came out she was calling out to you, but” he paused to fold his hands across his chest. “You kept walking away.”  
Jude initially was conflicted in his thoughts, is this becoming too personal? Should he abandon this conversation or tell someone what his night was really like? He lifted his head to address the pair of men he just met.

“You’re right, she has my heart.” He said in mock exasperation.

 

They learned of Jude’s past. How he and Alexis met after his first marriage, how she had a son, how her son’s father is trying to get back into her life romantically and how much he thinks of the little boy as one of his own children. But most of all how much he loves that woman, the woman that doesn’t seem to love him

There were no burns on Jude’s arms, but he felt wounded all the same. 

"When that elevator opened, and she saw my face..." Jude said shaking his head with the memory. "She looked like she looked in the pictures of when they were together. Her face looked as if she wanted more of him and less of me." He said touching his lips with a furrowed brow. "This night was supposed to be my tender proposition of us becoming more than friends…and quicker than I could say how dear she is to my heart, she was just snatched out of my hands." 

He scoffed, “That bastard.”


	17. come to jesus

           The French Quarter, known as Vieux Carré to the oldest of locals, was a myriad of old French flat tiled roofs and wooden siding, painted in the pastel hues fashionable at their inception. As a result, colorful walls, and roofs and elaborately decorated ironwork balconies and galleries surround the average sightseer. Bourbon Street, the city's most famous strip, was an exotic, risqué, and source of raucous entertainment. Yet, with all of its seductions, the street had become a ceaseless blur of light behind her. Gazing straight ahead, the woman was only half-aware of a world outside the confinement of the car.   
Jude's car.   
            At the very thought of his name, her hands pressed heavily into the leather of the steering wheel. She wanted to remember the heaviness of his hands in her own as he placed the keys within her grasp. There was a slowness in his action that illustrated all of the weariness she caused him and to her, it was as intoxicating as alcohol itself. Almost.   
            The almost soundless changing of the gears and the pattern of traffic lights caused her to sigh out the hell that had been her week in the crescent city. The car had housed her person for some time even after driving up to the doors of the Windsor, lost in the hurricane of her own mind. She sat in the heat of the car as her thoughts seeped from the pores of her skin and mingled with her sweat.   
            When Benedict slept with his ex, Alexis realized pretty early on that her trust in people would forever be tainted by his actions. That realization made her desperately cling to self sufficiency. The need for balance and a point of virtue that she thought she had made within herself decades ago. But that space, where she buried every emotion, was weakening by the second. And there was difficulty in ignoring it.   
            The sound of knocking on her passenger window pulled her from her reverie. A soft immature voice had spoken but it took her a moment to register what had been said. She stuttered a rickety response and apologized to the young man. He looked no older than twenty. His hair grew past his ears and curled as if it were damp. He spoke again, "Would you want someone to escort you inside?"   
            She stared at his kind eyes through the window and finally opened the door. "No, just this will be fine." With her words, she handed him the keys. 

  
           Alexis squinted a bit at the brightness of the room before her and walked deliberately slow through the automatic doors. Her bare feet sliding heavily against the floor below her. Heels in one hand, she reached out to graze the other against the round foyer table that was adorned with gardenias. Their sickly sweet smell followed her all the way to the elevators.   
          She stopped and looked at the humming metallic contraption before her.   
          Benedict's soft lips against hers contrasted heavily with Jude's rough grip on her arms. She faintly remembered seeing Michael and Lupita gaze at her as that scene played out in front of them as if it came straight from a soap opera. That's what Alexis's life was reduced to. A fucking episode of As the World Turns. She almost laughed at herself until she remembered the other viewers from earlier that night.   
         

            The children were there and they saw everything.

  
            When Alexis has finally made her way to the doors of Jude Law's room the faint and muffled noise of the television provided a smooth accompaniment to the patient clicking of her heels against the hall floors. She barely raised her hand to knock on the door before it swung open to reveal a handsome teenage boy who looked so much like his father. 

           "Raff-"   
            His name has been cut short by his hands wrapping around Alexis's frame. He shushed her apologies and her into the hotel room. Save for the television, the room was silent. The children were asleep and judging from Rafferty's eyes, he wasn't too far off from it either.   
           "Your father's not back yet?"  
           "No, but Grandmother's here…"  
           "Mags?"   
            Alexis turned away from Rafferty to look for Jude's mother and instantly came into contact with her. She wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Despite the heaviness in Alexis's stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against hers. Maggie sunk into the warmth of her side, appreciative of the simple gesture. In their embrace, Maggie turned her head to whisper to the younger woman.   
          "Tell me everything."   
           Alexis dug her bare feet into the carpet below trying to ease the discomfort that crept through her body as she told her tale of woe to Jude's mother. Typically the conversation between them was easy and charged with a healthy energy that seemed to radiate from the sun itself. But it was night, and the moon seemed a sore replacement.   
          "It's been hell, Maggie." Alexis said after a while, pulling on the hem of her dress. The crimson fabric seeming almost garish across her skin now. She looked down to see her own hand replaced by a smaller version.   
         "Asher, my little prince, why are you awake?"  
He didn't speak; he only climbed up into her lap in the chair and burrowed himself into her arms. Just as quickly as he awoke, he fell back asleep. She ran her fingers through his curls and listened to him purr.   
       "God, he's so much like his father. I don't think he's anything like me."  
       "No, he's everything like you."   
        As Maggie observed them she instantaneously likened them to a sculpture of the virgin and her son. There was something strangely biblical about them. And in this realization, she felt compelled to do more talking than she had done while Alexis spoke.   
       "Do you love me, Alexis?"  
Alexis stopped to gauge the older woman's expression to see if she was being serious.   
       "Of course I do." 

       “I’ve always felt like a mother to you.”

At her words, Alexis’s face morphed into a certain discomfort.

      “Good lord girl, when I said 'a mother,' I could have easily thought you saw a snake. Do you not consider yourself a daughter to me, after all this time, all these years?”

       “Absolutely not, Maggie.”

       “Why?”

      “Because… Jude must not be my brother.”

Maggie hummed in response, contemplating whether or not a glass of wine this late would be a good idea.

      "So you don’t consider me a mother because you don’t want him as a brother? Then tell me, what exactly is he, Alexis?" Maggie said deciding that one glass wouldn't be too damaging. "Red wine's good for the heart innit?" She said.   
"I think I've read that in a paper once?" Alexis said before sitting down again next to woman pouring a glass of wine. She blinked at the smell... Jude never told his mother about Alexis's little problem. But she continued nonetheless, "And I was joking just then. You are a mother figure to me, yes. But you are also a dear friend. I can confide in you in a way that I can’t with Geneva." 

Maggie downed the last of her wine before speaking, “Do you love my son?”

The younger woman was taken aback by her companion’s bluntness yet found some humor within it.

“I think I should go before he gets back.”  
“Alexis, do you love him?”

She kept laughing as she made her way to the door. She had to quiet herself in order to keep from waking her son.

“I think I just worried about where he’s going to sleep. Rafferty’s on the couch, the girls have taken one bed and you have the other…”

“Do you not love him?”

“Maggie, please.”

Alexis wanted so badly to give Maggie a definitive answer. But, Maggie knew why she would probably never hear it even if Alexis didn’t.

Oh, she knew.

 

 

 

 

 

Brown curls with golden streaks were the first sight Alexis was granted with that next morning, something so beautiful she thanked a higher power for it. She basked in the moment before it was painfully interrupted by the outside world. Her cell phone buzzed wildly and she fumbled around for a bit before finding it, and when she did it was loaded with messages from her mother and Joan. Each message more frantic than the other until they just stopped altogether. The most recent message, the most frightening of all.

 

**Come home, your father is in the hospital.**


End file.
